Escaping Gravity
by rozzy07
Summary: Sam makes his break from his family only to start a dark and lonely roadtrip across America to get Stanford, and just how does John & Dean deal with his going? LimpSam and AngstyDean to come!
1. Chapter 1

Usual disclaimers apply. Again all mistakes are mine!

_This is a follow up to 'Effects of Gravity' which doesn't necessarily have to be read to follow this story. The relationship between John and his youngest son is fractured and this opening chapter starts the ball rolling for the full breakdown to come. This in turn leads to a difficult road trip across America for Sam in his quest to get to Stanford. _

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 1 - Breaking orbit**

"Well that didn't exactly go to plan," bitched Dean traipsing back to the car soaked from head to toe. His jeans clung uncomfortably to him and he felt himself walking even more bowlegged than normal as the now too tight clothing pinched in delicate places.

Casting a quick eye over at his brother he hissed in annoyance at the dry state he had managed to keep himself in and muttered tersely, "Trust Princess Samantha to come away smelling like a freaking rose."

Sam just smirked, staying a good few feet away from his foul smelling brother, "It was lavender actually, helped soften the fall a bit," he drawled.

Dean sniffed again, not happy that his brother had been right about the spirit being water based and that he had run head long into the one place where it could draw power other than the lake.

Sam for his part kept his judgement in check, just wanting for this tiresome hunt and night to be finally over and done with. Besides he realised as he tried to shrug out the growing knot of pain in his shoulder and left forearm, the lavender hadn't been a soft enough cushion to stop his body from starting to ache. He couldn't feel any breaks, just another collection of bruises and aches, which in its way was a good thing, especially after being thrown high into a brick wall at god knows how many miles an hour.

"You okay there?" asked Dean with a slight note of concern on his face at watching his brother stretch out his tall lanky frame in a grimace.

"Nothing a couple of Advil and a few weeks in Hawaii won't fix," murmured Sam already desperate for an escape from the monotony of playing a redundant third wheel to the older Winchesters two-wheeled act. Fingering his broken cell phone he showed it to Dean with a rueful half smile. "Still I don't think a couple of Advil are going to fix this."

"You sure know how to make Dad love you, don't you kiddo." responded Dean tongue in cheek. "How many phones have you managed to destroy this year?"

"Three," answered Sam with a shrug of indifference, stuffing the broken phone into his jean pocket. Two busted on stupid hunts and the third via the local laundrette. Oh, yeah he knew too well just how pissed his dad would be again at another screw up and could already hear him moaning about responsibility and money. But then again when wasn't he pissed with him?

The wind shifted again and Sam couldn't help but groan out loud as the foul stuff that covered his brother assaulted his nostrils once more. "Jesus Dude, you smell really bad. You've gotta strip off or your going to stink out the car for months."

Dean knew that he had to get out of his rank smelling clothes, but it still was hard to swallow down a stream of expletives when it came to taking advice from his little brother. This whole lets 'dump Dean in an exploding water closest' was really getting old fast.

After the initial confrontation with the spirit he had chased it back to the nearest source of power shotgun pellets exploding in the closed confines of the Outhouse, and when that did not have the desired outcome he followed it up with a liberal spraying of consecrated iron rods.

Who knew that the spirit would react to so violently to such exposure literally blowing itself up and the Outhouse with a mesmerising geyser effect. Putrid water had gushed upwards lifting the rickety roof right off and sprayed the surrounding area, and Dean, accordingly.

At least the little shit had been vaporised and he could hold his head up a little bit higher with that knowledge, thought Dean a little smugger.

On reaching the impala he shucked slowly out of his slimy clothing to shiver in the cold night air pour pulling out an old grey blanket from the trunk and wrapped it around his waist to afford himself at least some modesty.

He could hear Sam snickering around the other side of the car and his bad humour just kept on rising along with his embarrassment. Then the moment he had dreaded became a reality as the deep voice of their father cut through the darkness.

"What the hell happened Dean?" demanded John Winchester as he marched into view, his eyes widening in surprise at seeing his semi-naked son. His initial question was quickly followed by another, "On my god what's that awful smell?"

"Dean." Sam answered simply, a look of angelic innocence on his face that made his older brother want to reach across the trunk of his beloved car and smack him. Hard.

John Winchester slowly circled around the car, noting the pile of sodden clothing with a disdainful sniff, assessing his oldest with a practiced eye. Never a man to beat around the bush he asked. "You finished the job at least I hope?"

"Yes sir," responded Dean automatically whilst pushing his dirty clothes into a large holdall, "Though it didn't quite go to plan," he admitted, and glowered at his brother daring him to add anything further and Sam just smiled sweetly in return.

John though wasn't fooled by the silence between the two and turned his attention back to his youngest, "Where were you when all of this happened? You're supposed to cover his back." snapped John irritably, annoyed that things had not gone as he had directed.

Sam immediately bristled under the bare veiled accusation that he had screwed things up and looked to his brother for support but Dean was still seething at the ridiculous situation he found himself to want to step in between the two perpetually warring Winchesters.

Snorting out his disgust Sam snapped back, "Oh yeah, like I said earlier when you chose to ignore me this was a water spirit and the fact that Dean went barging after it head first into a frigging Outhouse of course has to be all my fault."

"Watch your mouth," hissed out John, feeling that all too familiar charge of static being generated between them The fact was that Dean was lucky to walk away from this one relatively unscathed and it unsettled him. "You should have stopped him going in there in the first place if you knew it was a damned water spirit."

"Yeah well that's kind of hard to do that when your ass is being thrown twenty yards into the air. It sort of makes it difficult to keep both eyes on watching his back!"

Dean ears pricked up on that last statement more than a little annoyed at the inference that he needed his little brother to keep his back safe. He had been on enough hunts without him to know that he could hold his own, on his own.

Tersely he moved in between the two fighting Winchesters with an out stretch of his arms. "Hey you guys, you can stop the pissing competition because I do believe it was me that got that bitching spirits ass kicked in the end. I don't need little Samantha here to watch my back. Period. I'm the guy that won the gold medal here."

Sam looked at him, and any anger he might have wanted to hold onto instantly evaporated at the picture his brother presented.

The woollen blanket was wrapped haphazardly around his waist, his short hair stuck to his scalp with rust-brown gunk and his pale skin was peppered with goose-bumps so large they were visible in the cold night air, all of which leant an absurd air to his macho posturing. He looked anything but like a victorious gold medal winner.

A small chuckle escaped and he knew that he pay for that later on after Dean had enough time to think of a plan of revenge yet still he couldn't stop himself. "Dude your right. You really must take all the credit here. It was a masterful execution," waving a hand over at him. "Go, please and bask in the glory that is all you….stench and all."

"Bitch" snapped back Dean, pulling the blanket tighter as it threatened to slip off his hips. "At least I got the damn thing while you went butt first into a flower bed."

"Yeah and I smell so much better than you for it." smirked Sam again, sliding into the back of the car as his brother rearranged his blanket before slipping into the front passenger seat.

John Winchester shook his head as the brothers teased each other regretting yet again that he hadn't driven his own vehicle to the hunt. His face wrinkled in disgust as he sidled into the drivers seat, the odour drifting off his oldest was enough to make his eyes water, making it nigh impossible to breathe let alone talk.

The miserable look on Dean's face summed it all up perfectly and he knew that if anything was learnt on this hunt it was not to rush blindly into things so recklessly as his oldest had done.

As he drove back to the main highway he caught sight of his youngest in the rear view mirror and he sighed. He knew that he had been too hard on him again, but it just seemed that whenever he opened his mouth conflict immediately arose. It was, no had never been this difficult with Dean. Dean accepted his authority, did what was expected of him and never argued the toss like Sam seemed intent on. Why didn't the boy just know when to keep his mouth shut and just listen.

Studying him closer he could see the boy changing into the man. Subtle changes, his face was thinner, longer, his shoulders a little broader. With all the windows down the wind was lifting his way too long wavy hair away from his face. No matter how many times he had told him to get it cut it still stayed impossibly long. Deliberately so he guessed, another act of defiance to his authority he reasoned.

Watching his youngest profile despite all the changes he still seemed so much younger than his years, still affecting an air of naivety that scared him at times. Not for the first time he wondered just how on earth had that boy had grown up to be such a sensitive creature, when for his entire life he had been surrounded by demons, monsters and darkness. The boy was a complete puzzle to him.

At least now with the end of school he could keep a closer eye on him. The last year he had been gone more often than not and each time he returned Sam seemed more distant, more argumentative, more freaking independent and down right stubborn.

"Yep" thought John positively. 'Sam would soon buckle down into the Winchester way of life.' Give him a few months permanently in their world, under his rule, and all those silly daydreams of his will have melted away and he could become the hunter he was supposed to be and they would all be better off for it.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The lavender bushes really had not been a soft enough cushion realised Sam as his left forearm and shoulder ached a dull throb all the way home. The water spirit had had a powerful punch to it, he thought ruefully, as he massaged his arm gently and felt thankful that Dean had been able to dispatch it when he did. He didn't think going a second round with the spirit would have been any fun at all.

As they pulled up to the small wooden framed house they had rented for the last four months he pulled himself tiredly out of the car, head hung low to avoid catching another disparaging look from his still pissed off father.

Dean had already hot-tailed into house cussing all the way as his bare feet protested at the icy ground underfoot and he trailed silently behind his father into the house. He threw his backpack on the floor by the front door and shrugged out of his jacket heading straight away for his room stiffly. The mailbox for the first time in over a month forgotten by the youngest Winchester.

As he sank on to his bed he reasoned that a couple of painkillers would get him sorted out for tonight at least. Tomorrow he would get Dean to look at his arm and shoulder. See just how bad the damage was. It was better to have his brother inspect the harm than dad who'd only tear strips off him again for getting banged up in the first place.

'Yeah', thought Sam, 'nothing like a little bit of an acidic tongue lashing to make you feel even better about another freaking hunt gone wrong – again.'

Dad it seemed had got that ability down to an art form with him on a way too regular basis lately. He could just imagine the fireworks exploding when he had to fess up to another broken phone.

After what had seemed an age Dean had emerged from his shower decidedly pinker and a little happier than before.

Now fresh and clean again his mood had lifted and dressed in his usual attire of jeans and dark tee shirt he was looking forward to a few beers and a game of pool. Hell he might even let Sammy drag along with him tonight and help lift that air of gloom he seemed to have adopted since his graduation. The graduation he had been forced to miss with a hunt in Wisconsin.

With inward sigh he knew he should have stepped in when dad snapped at his brother for not watching his back. It wasn't Sam's fault that he hadn't listened and yet it had been his brother who had borne the brunt of their dad's sharp tongue. So, yeah, a few good beers might just soften them all up and let the indignities of the day slide away.

He breezed back into the kitchen with a bright smile only for it to vanish at hearing the anger in his father's angry voice yelling clearly through the house. "Sam, what the hell is this? "

"Dad?" he asked as his father strode past him, his lips thinning to a tight slash as he flung open the bedroom door.

Sam had struggled up to his feet at hearing his dad yell and looked more than a little startled as the door burst open with a large crack to hit the wall. He had seen his dad mad as hell before, more times often than not directed at him, but never with this level of intensity. The man looked ready to explode.

"Just what the hell is this?" demanded John again of his youngest waving a large envelope at him.

Sam eyes were drawn to the large envelope with the Stanford college logo stamped at the top still fisted in his dad's large hand. Whatever fear he might have felt at hearing the anger in his dad's voice mutated into joy at seeing the Stanford logo. "Is that what I think it is?"

"You tell me?" snarled John, waiving the envelope under his nose again before ripping it open, glancing over the contents quickly with dark eyes he shoved the letter and its contents against Sam's chest with a flat emphatic. "No."

Sam lifted the letter off his chest and pointedly ignoring his dad's remark carefully read its. Slowly a wide smile broke across his face, his dimples deepening as he realised that one of his favoured colleges was giving him a full scholarship.

Life truly could get no sweeter than this he thought, affirming that all his hard work for the last eighteen months had been worth it. Hoping for the same reaction from his brother he spun round to share his good news. "I did it Dean, I got into Stanford on a full ride."

Dean face fell open; he looked to Sam and then to his dad and felt a sudden coldness hit him. The kid was fooling himself if he thought for one second that Dad would let this happen. What was the idiot thinking applying for college when they had been waiting for him to finish school and join them in full-time hunting.

"You've got to be kidding me Sammy. College?" he asked huskily, a bitter taste forming in his mouth. The kid couldn't just run out on him like this. He just couldn't.

Sam grinned at him expectantly not yet sensing the negative vibes being generated by his brother. "This is freaking awesome, it's a full scholarship to Stanford. I really did it."

Waiting for a positive reaction he frowned as his brother locked eyes over his shoulder to share an agreeing nod with his father. Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach, realising that there would be no slap on the back of 'Well done little brother'. They _both_ meant to stop him.

John for his part was desperate to put an end to his youngest son's wayward dreams to leave the family and he spat out forcibly. "You're not going."

Letting Sam go off to college had never been part of his agenda. He had allowed him to finish school, why couldn't that be enough for him? This nonsense had to stop now and he added. "College is just not gonna happen."

Sam shook his head, and took a step backwards away from his family, already feeling the distance growing between them. Blinking back his tears of frustration he kept the letter tight in his hand and shook his head again. "It's Stanford dad. One of the best colleges in the country and you don't want me to go? Why?"

"If you have to ask that then you're more thick-headed than I could ever give you credit for. How the hell is four years of some fancy college gonna help you hunt?" cursed John, drawing himself up to his full height imposing his presence on his slighter built son. "You can't go and that's final."

Sam though was just as tall as him now and eyed him back with a less than fearful impression on his face. If anything his words had triggered an even more defiant look in his youngest eyes, now almost black with anger. "You're one screwed up father, you know that. Right?"

John growled a warning, and Dean winced visibly, wondering at just how ugly this might get as his dad moved menacingly towards his brother. "You watch your mouth boy. You don't get to speak to me like that."

Sam wasn't going to be intimidated and almost seemed to laugh as he answered. "You know most normal dad's would be over the moon if their son got into college on a free ride. They'd see this an achievement to be proud of."

John shook his head in answer, crushing Sam's hopes in the process. "Achievement? Its not gonna make you a better hunter is it? Like it or not we hunt - that's what we do."

Still Sam wasn't ready to back down, the word 'hunt' a trigger to his general unhappiness as a Winchester. "Oh yeah the eternal hunt. Funny thing is that you keep telling me at just how crappy I'm at it,"

Waving his letter at his dad he added. "Thought this might have been the perfect opportunity to off load me, that way you two could continue with your perfect hunting world without me dragging you down."

John looked hard at his youngest a little shocked at the bitterness that could be heard in his voice, but the anger wouldn't die down enough for him to keep any restraint and he heard himself once again shouting at the boy. "Yeah well may be that's why you need to get your head out of your butt and focus more on the hunting. May be then you wouldn't be such a fucking screw up all the time."

Sam blinked hard for a second obviously stung by his dad's comments and then the rage took over. "Well this Screw Up got himself a full ride into college despite being your sorry assed son. So guess what I'm doing next dad - and no it doesn't start with the fucking letter 'H'."

"You little shit…" snarled John reaching to grab his son before Dean blocked his way.

"Hey, that's enough," warned Dean to his brother, pushing him back a step away from his dad's reach, before locking eyes with him. "Dad's right. It's time for you to grow up and give this college stuff a rest. Okay?"

"No its not okay." snapped Sam pulling away from his brother's touch. "You know you and dad have the wonderful little hunters club going on here were you go out and blow the brains out of something bad and get your jollies."

"And that's a bad thing? broke in Dean with a small shrug of confusion. He couldn't understand why his brother resented their life so much. "Its what we do best, and yeah me and dad have got it down pretty pat now. In a few months you'll feel the same."

Sam shook his head, desperately trying to keep himself in check. Dean saw the struggle on his brother's face and playfully punched his arm and smiled some encouragement, "Come on, just think of it as you being lucky enough to be joining a very exclusive men's club here."

Sam couldn't keep the bitter laugh from escaping as he confessed. "You really think that's what I want? To be some screwed up second rate gopher for you guys."

Dean looked puzzled and shot a quick glance back at his dad to see how he was reacting, not expecting his brother to be so implacable but Sam wasn't finished.

"You still don't get it, do you? My best is never going to be good enough for him," he whispered harshly, stabbing a finger over at their father. "So you can stick that membership where the sun don't shine."

Dean felt himself pushed aside as his dad barrelled past him and slam the slighter built boy up hard against the wall. "I've had enough of your mouth boy. You do as I say or so god help me… "

Sam swallowed back a yelp of pain at being thumped so hard into the wall, his bruised arm and shoulder protesting as his father continued the pressure, but he knew it was now or never for him to make his stand. Pushing off hard against his father's heavy arm that pressed across his chest he staggered free.

His eyes were bright with unshed tears as he hollowed out a response. "Or what? You'll beat the crap out of me? Its not that I got into college that you're pissed about is it? Must be really galling for a control freak like you not being able to keep me under your thumb anymore."

John sucked in an angry retort and started long and hard at his son aware that he was about to lose his baby boy if he didn't try to guilt him into staying. With a coldness to his voice he answered. "I'm done with this. You want to go then go, but you go now. And you stay gone."

"Dad?" interjected Dean alarmed at where this was heading. He couldn't really mean to just let Sam go like that. It was insane. College was months away. They had time to persuade Sam from going, but if he left now things would never get fixed.

John shook his head at his oldest son, his voice frighteningly level. "No Dean. Your brother wants out of this family then out he goes." He was rewarded by a flicker of fear in his youngest eyes, the notion that he would lose his family, more importantly his brother, hopefully starting to tip the balance back to his parental control.

Sam's startled face was an open book to read and he went in for the kill confident that using Dean as his leverage it would deal with this problem once and for all. "You want to go to college then go, but if you do then you walk away from this family, me, your brother, forever. You hear me. You walk out that door tonight and you can never come back."

Stunned Sam watched his father turn away from him without another word. He looked for support to his brother but just like his dad he turned and walked away. The silence was deafening.

A feeling akin to when his father had left him behind in Farnborough washed over him once more. It was of utter rejection, that no matter what he did next he was never ever going to be the son his father wanted.

He knew that putting in his college applications behind his dad's back had been a risky thing to do, but secretly he had hoped that if he did get this longed for scholarship, a full ride, that his dad might just this once be proud of him. Just this once.

Crushed he could hardly breathe, the emotions so thick that drawing in air was a struggle.

Clumsily he sat back down on is bed, his hands shaking as he tried to reread his letter from Stanford but his watery eyes just made all the text blur. For this one chance of freedom he would have to trade in everything, including his brother.

Not since Farnborough did Sam Winchester feel so utterly alone.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean tugged at his father's arm as they returned to the living room pulling him tiredly to a stop. "Dad you really can't mean this. Sam can't go…"

Shaking his head his father answered. "It's his choice now Dean. What do you want me to do here? Tie him down to a chair and exorcise this rebellious streak from him."

"If you have to," demanded Dean.

John headed over to the fridge, taking out two beers, one of which he tossed over to his oldest, before he sunk dejectedly down onto the well used sofa, trying desperately to ignore how his heart beat painfully in his chest. "Just give the boy a day or two and he'll come around."

"God I hope so dad. You can't let him go." demonstrated Dean, frightened that his way too smart little brother would just up and do that, leave them, leave him just as his dad had told him to do. Chewing on his bottom lip he looked over at his dad and saw the worry frown creasing his brow. "Just how did he manage to let this whole college slip by us?"

"The kid has always been way too smart," acknowledged John Winchester, his guts starting to churn in sudden dread as he added, "And way too goddam stubborn. Bet you anything Jennings has had his hand in this. He's always been desperate to get his hooks into Sammy."

Swallowing a long gulp of beer to drown the thoughts screaming in his head he knew that he might have made a big mistake in giving the boy such a confrontational ultimatum. Sam seemed to thrive on them lately.

Taking another long swig of beer he shook his head, afraid of what was to come next. He had been faltering with the boy ever since California. Something had broken inside him when he had failed his youngest, something he should have tried fixing back in the hospital those eighteen months ago but didn't. The silence between them about Farnborough and that damn house was covered over by their constant bickering, their constant fighting. It was a disguise to hide behind and now Sam was readying to run away from the silence, and run away from him. Readying to go because of his mistakes in dealing with the boy.

Still he couldn't believe that his little boy would really leave them now, especially not his brother. Surely the kid knew just how much they needed him, just how much he was the cement that kept their family together.

**o0o0o0o0o**

Stuffing as much as he could of his meagre possessions into a canvas holdall he finally folded in half the acceptance letter to Stanford and shoved it into a side pocket before he zipped up the bag. Standing on shaky legs he flung it over his right shoulder, and studied the room for a brief second readying himself to leave. It was time to leave Michigan behind and head back to California.

After his dad's final words he knew couldn't stay. There was no way to reason with him or Dean, as they would never see things through his eyes. They would just see him as disloyal, not a true Winchester like they patently were for him daring to be different from their ideals and goals.

Dad's words had stung hard, driving fresh salt into wounds that had failed to heal since Farnborough. He knew he was the screw up in this family, but was it really that easy for his dad to push him away, out of the family? But then again he had made that decision before for him, why should he be so surprised by him doing the same now.

Struggling to keep back the threat of tears the choice was made. Stanford wanted him, saw something in him that his dad failed or didn't want to see. To stay even one more night would mean buckling down to his father's will, not just this once but for as long as he dared to draw breath.

Bit by bit, day and night, they would chip away at him till he gave up his dreams, till he gave up any hope of having any self worth.

Sam Winchester was anything but a coward and he took the first step away from his life as a brother and son when he walked out of the bedroom, bag over his shoulder his young head held high in bitter determination.

He dared to lock eyes briefly with his brother and saw the shock on his face turning into open anger. Not a chance there he knew of his big brother suddenly standing by his side and supporting him against their dad. After reading the look in his brother's face he didn't bother looking at his dad, not want to see the condemning stare that he would see.

To an overwhelming condemning silence he walked out of the small house and out of their lives. There really hadn't been a need for words, because there was too much to say that couldn't be spoken of.

**o0o0o0o0o**

TBC 

_**Perhaps I should have really titled this 'The Road trip from hell," as Sam starts his long and difficult journey back to California. **_

Feed back would be nice!


	2. Chapter 2

Usual disclaimers apply. Again all mistakes are sadly mine! Hope you enjoy – let me know what you think.

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 2 – Memories left behind.**

Dean stared at his dad in open shock. Had they really just let his baby brother walk out of the door without a word spoken? Swallowing down the rage burning in throat at what had just happened he jumped to his feet, readying to follow after him voicing his disbelief. "No way is this happening, we've got to stop him dad. He can't just run off like this."

"Dean, listen its his choice now," barked out his father in warning all to aware just how his oldest was feeling right now.

When he saw Sam walk by without even a glance he knew what defeat felt like. The defiant look on his youngest face told it all, that he had taken him at his word and was walking out of their lives, most likely running as fast as he could away from him.

"No, he can't just up and leave like this. Its just plain crazy." growled Dean, fear tugging at his guts now. There was no way he was willing to lose his brother like this?

Knowing how his naïve brother attracted trouble it was just plain daft to let him go off like this. Dean knew that his father knew this but he was just being to blinkered and stubborn to admit it right now. Since forever his little brother had been a magnet for the paranormal, for the whacked out ghosts and unnaturals beasties out there that most mortals would never see. Harshly he demanded. "Dad you know the sort of crap he could attract out there on his own, don't you? He has to come home."

Shrugging his shoulder in defeat John was emotionally washed out as he asked. "What do you want me to do here boy? Chase after him and drag him screaming and kicking back here?"

"Hell yes," huffed Dean readying to go after his brother even if his father wasn't. No way was he going to let him wander off unprotected on some stupid quest to go off to some fancy college.

"No Dean, he's made his decision, and that decision no longer includes us," answered John bitterly already erecting the barricades of steel around his heart as protection from the strong emotions swirling inside his head.

After all had told his boy to go when all he had wanted to do was hold onto him so tightly, so fiercely. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he had just whispered to the boy just how damn proud he was of him and then tell him why it wasn't safe for him to go? He might have listened, hell he may have even stayed.

Now all his fears were made real because of his inability to touch his youngest either emotionally or physically and that failure was driving him out of their lives. Sam he realised bitterly was right, he was one hell of a screwed up father.

As he eyed his oldest he suddenly realised that he was in danger of losing him too. Remembering Farnborough and the lengths Dean had gone to save his brother he knew that Dean was liable to go after his brother and may not come back if Sam could persuade him to follow him.

His voice trembling he to tried to offset this by reminding Dean of his brother's decision. "He is the one that left us Dean. He's the one who thinks he too goddam good to be part of this family. You remember that son."

Shaking his head Dean redirected his anger to his dad as he snarled. "Well you made that stupid choice for him. Telling him to leave and not come back was like putting a loaded gun at his head and daring him to play freaking Russian Roulette."

"I didn't expect him to pull the bloody trigger," confessed John to his oldest son. Wearily he scrubbed a hand over his face, he had played the game wrongly not really daring to take on board the consequences. "He wasn't meant to follow it through."

"This is Sammy were talking about dad. He won't be safe out there. I won't see him get hurt again. I just won't, " answered Dean a little softer at seeing how crumpled his father suddenly appeared.

"He'll go to Aaron. He'll be in safe hands with him." nodded John confidently to himself. Not liking the idea one bit of his once old friend having any input on his son's life, but he knew that he cared deeply about the boy and would protect from the dangers out there.

Dean shattered that confidence by saying, "Just how the hell is he going to get to frigging Stanford? Is the Professor going to fly across the country and pick him up cos I can tell you that Sam doesn't have that sort of money to get himself clear to California never mind out of the freaking state."

John frowned and shot a look at his son wondering where all the money might have gone that his youngest had been squirreling away since they moved to Michigan. "He's been saving all Winter son, doing that job at the store and the library," snorting his disbelief he added, "He'll get to California no problem."

"What with? I made him pay for the impala after the run in with that crazed up bunch of black dogs a few weeks ago. It wiped out his savings…. jeez I thought it was funny at the time but I would have paid him back eventually." Dean confessed, only realising now why his brother had been so reluctant to pay for the damages to the car.

The money had been his safety net to fall back on when he hightailed it back to Cali. The little brat had been planning his escape for sometime it seemed and that made the anger boil inside him even more.

"So he has nothing left?" demanded John his stomach knotting in fear. He'd let his boy storm off without the means to get to him safely across country.

Reaching into his back pocket he hastily pulled out his wallet. Slipping out a wad of notes and a credit card he pressed them into Dean's hand. "Go on, best find him and give him this. At least he'll get to that bastard Jennings in one piece this way."

"Dad come with me", protested Dean not liking this plan at all. "He might come back if you talk to him. Don't let him go like this, don't let the stubborn jackass think that you don't care."

"He doesn't want to listen to me son. Hasn't for the last year or two." confessed John, his voice harsh with honesty. "You better hurry and find him, make sure he has enough for a ticket to get to Berkley. "

"We're his goddam family not fucking Jennings. Its us he should be with, we know how to keep his skinny ass safe." hissed out Dean, already heading out of the door.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Now that he had made his choice he struggled to know what to do next. With a meagre thirty something dollars to his name he was hardly going to get on a bus to California. As for tonight he knew that he had to get a ride out of town or find a place to crash until he could get some more money together.

All too aware of the lateness of the hour he knew that hitching a lift was the best option. Knocking on someone's door past midnight in a small town like this would not be well received and the thought of having to spend one more night so near and yet so far from his brother just didn't seem right.

Readying for leaving yet another town behind, another group of friends, he drew in a long breath all too familiar with the pang of loss and regret that went with it. This time he knew the loss would be harder, as this time it was his family he was leaving behind. With his dad's words ringing in his ears he knew he could never come back.

Walking hunched over in the stiffening breeze and rain he quickly made his way back to the main road out of town. The chill in the air had become more invasive and the thin cotton jacket he had worn earlier on the hunt didn't meet his need for warmth. Shivering he decided to carry on walking, that way at least he could keep the cold at bay a little longer, all the while praying for a quick exit from the pain building inside of him.

He had gone only less than quarter of a mile when a truck pulled up besides him. Peering awkwardly in through the passenger window he caught sight of a man about his dad's age, similar in build and colouring, who threw him a quick questioning look.

As the window came down the driver asked. "Where you heading for son at this time of night?" There was more than a twinge of concern in his voice as he looked over the tall shivering figure.

For the life of him he couldn't understand what would make a teenager walk the roads this late an hour trying to hitch a lift. There were too many unsavoury characters out there, didn't the kid know any better?

Thinking of his own boys he had pulled instinctively over and was glad to see that the young lad looked honest enough. "Best hop in lad, before you freeze to death."

Flashing a brief smile Sam hesitantly got into the truck. Assessing the man as best he could he gave a silent prayer of thanks at not seeing the words 'psycho' or 'axe murderer' marked in neon letters on his forehead. As the truck pulled away Sam gave him a small nod of gratitude. "Thanks sir for stopping."

"Clive Harrison. Where you heading to this late in the night?" What he really wanted to ask is why the hell was a kid like him trying to hitch a lift well past midnight. He'd tan his own boys' behinds no matter their age if he ever caught them doing something so reckless.

"Sam Winchester. California." came back the soft reply as Sam settled into his seat, pushing the canvas bag between his feet.

Clive looked over at the boy with an eyebrow raised in surprise and he gave a small snort of disbelief. "Well California sure is a long ways off. I can only take you as far as Bridgeton. After that I suggest you get the Greyhound. Its gonna be safer than hitching all the way to California."

Throwing him back a weak grin Sam nodded ruefully at the idea of being able to hop onto a bus and get to California by such easy means. "Sure would be Mr Harrison."

Already he was calculating just how long it would take him to get there with so little money in his pocket. Reality crept into his thoughts and knew stealing a car wasn't an option because he couldn't see Stanford being particularly impressed if he got caught and then presented to college with a criminal record.

Anyway he told himself he was going to do this little road trip his way and screw the Winchester usual way of doing things. If he wasn't considered good enough to be one of them then he would make up his own rules from now on.

As he watched the last exit sign for home race by he sighed recalling the flash of temper on his brother's face as he left all to well. It hurt to think of him really being so angry with him but what was he supposed to do? Did he really expect him to let their dad trample all over him time and time again?

Squaring his jaw against the internalised pain he held in check he viewed the road ahead with fresh determination. They had wanted him gone and the quicker he did that the better it would be for everyone.

The train depot at Bridgeton was his best next option. Getting out of the state, as far away as he could, perhaps get a job for a month or two and then head off to California, was his best way forwards.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Just how the hell could his brother disappear in the space of ten minutes wondered Dean anxiously. He had driven all over town expecting to see his shaggy head hung low against the rain, expecting to see him waiting for him to turn up and drag his sorry ass back home if anything, still not yet believing that his brother was really leaving his family for some stupid dream of college.

He knew it had been hard on his brother the last year or so, left mostly on his own as they went on hunts, but the last five months he had seemed settled and he had been safe.

Chewing on a nail his eyes searched out the streets for Sam whilst his mind wondered on how in frigging hell hadn't he noticed his brother readying to make his big escape like this?

As he drove randomly around without success he came to the conclusion that the stubborn idiot had more than likely run to one of his newly acquired friends that Sam seemed so comfortable at making. No doubt spilling them a sob story as he made himself warm and comfortable for the night, whilst here he was worrying his ass off driving around like a lunatic.

Grim faced he realised that he had no idea who these new friends of Sam's where in this small town of no-faces that he had never put a name too. He hadn't had the interest or the time to found out who they were. But tomorrow he would make it his business, that's for sure.

Slowly he turned the car around in a wide u-turn and headed back to the house. He'd track down his little brother in the morning and hopefully by then he would have the chance to see just how stupid it was to take off like this. If not he would just have to knock some sense into his hard head once and for all he reasoned.

To hell with his dad's willingness to cut him loose through his stupid pride he told himself. When it came to keeping his little brother protected he had no such qualms on when catching up with his brother on knocking the stuffing out of him if it kept him safely by his side.

First thing come day break he'd make his way to the store on main street that Sam had worked at since rolling into town. The storekeeper may just have an inkling on where his little brother had hunkered down for the night.

This is what he knew best, hunting, although it felt more than a little strange that his target this time was his little brother and he just hoped that his instincts would serve him well again.

Decision made he stilled the engine and sat in the car wondering at just how screwed up this day had become. Things were supposed to get easier since Sam graduated but somehow the few weeks since finishing school everything had just gotten worse between him and dad.

The simmering anger that rolled back and forth between the two of them was no longer relieved by their absence when they left him behind to hunt. Constantly day in day out they rubbed each other the wrong way. All it took was one word, one wrong look and things would explode with dad ragging on Sam's ass and his brother pushing back just as hard.

In truth he was sick and tired of hearing them go at it, but now he could only regret in not taking the time to talk to his brother, to let him know that things would only get better once they got over their 'hunting' teething troubles. Sam belonged with them, he just didn't know it yet.

Pushing the money and credit card his dad had given him into his jacket pocket he got out and walked quietly back into the house. His dad sat where he had left him nursing a beer in his hand eyeing him cautiously as he picked up his own beer to take a long much needed drink.

"Your brother take the money?" asked John surprised at how quickly Dean had returned, not sure if his son might have refused the offer, especially if he knew where it had come from. He didn't think he was on top of the list of his favourite people with his youngest right now.

Dropping into a threadbare armchair Dean shook his head. "No. I think he's hiding low dad. Gone to stay with a friend I guess till the morning. I'll track him down then."

"Why don't you call his cell? Find out where he was going? If you ring him he'll pick up…."

Dean gave out a hollow laugh and shook his head. "No I can't cos he busted his phone tonight when he went smack into the wall."

Mouthing a silent 'Oh' of surprise John swallowed back a flicker of alarm before carefully masking his concerns with a slight sneer. "What is it with your brother and his inability to keep a phone?"

"Yeah well I don't think the kid had much choice in the matter. He'll be sporting some nice bruises tomorrow. I'm thinking that it will slow him down enough for me to play catch up with the runt."

Swallowing carefully John masked his concern. What if he had taken off already? What if they were already too late and his stubborn boy had already left town? God knows he knew the sort of trouble his youngest could draw out of the woodwork and now knowing that he had no phone he had to ask. "Did he take any protection with him?"

Dean paused mid-swig and put down the bottle slowly his head tilting towards the bedroom he had shared with his brother with a frown. "He's not that stupid dad…."

"Best go check anyways," ordered John and watched his oldest son nod his understanding as he hauled himself out of the chair.

Dean winced at the sight of strewn books, paper and clothes that his little brother had left behind on his normally neat and tidy side of the room. Sam had packed in a hurry that much was visible and has he picked through his discarded belongings the reality of the situation hit hard. Sam really had left them, left him, with no intention of coming back.

Sinking onto the edge of the bed Dean's hands shook as he held a book that his brother had only been reading the night before. He had teased him about being an overgrown bookworm but Sam had just glowered at him and continued reading safe in his corner of the bedroom. Safe from a further tongue lashing that he had been on the receiving end of all day long from their dad.

Slamming the book down Dean hated the thing, realising that his brother had escaped into it rather than talk to him.

Methodically he started the search of what was left behind, pulling out each drawer of the old dresser and tipping the contents onto the bed. At least he had taken the curved knives that Caleb had given him a few summers back thought Dean a little comforted by their absence as he reached for the last drawer.

The bottom drawer made him pause and swallow hard as he eyed its contents. A small cardboard box, faded and with the childish scrawled name of _Sammy_ on the lid made his heart miss a beat. Since his earliest days Sam had kept this box, his little stash of secrets he had called it, stuffed with his memories. For Sam to not take it with him meant that he was leaving more than his family behind, he was leaving a part of himself too. The part that screamed the name Winchester.

His hand shaking he pulled the lid off and his mouth went dry. Laid out like little treasures of hope were mementos and keepsakes that his brother had kept cherished since early childhood.

They were all battered little keepsakes that he had once shared in a joyful innocence with his brother. Staring up at him was a faded photo of them both as young boys, a birthday card when he was six with Goofy on the front, the blue taffeta ribbon that he won so many years ago in Oklahoma on sports day, his favourite story book when he was four that he could remember reading to him time and time again. All thought to be true treasures by Sam at some point in his life.

Slowly he picked up the old arrow head that they had found one hot summers afternoon in Idaho when Sam was an over excitable eight year old. Letting it bite into his palm as his hand clenched tight around it, the sting from the still sharp edges was a welcome distraction to the pain thumping in his chest.

In a tight frown his eyes locked onto a bundled stash of papers stuffed in the back of the drawer. Pulling them out for closer inspection he saw that they were a wad of certificates and merits that he had never seen before.

His throat constricted as he counted them out. So many, and not one of them had his brother thought to show him, hidden away as if they were an embarrassment. Or more importantly in the Winchester world of hunting Sam had learnt that they would not be considered of any value to him or his dad.

"Sammy." he whispered sadly realising that he had been losing his brother far longer than he could have imagined as he put the legacy of his brother's academic abilities to one side.

Since when, he asked himself, had he stopped paying attention to what his brother did best? When had things got so fucked up that it sent his brother hot footing it out of their lives to escape clear across the country from them?

"Goddamit little brother, why didn't you say something? Why couldn't you just talk to me?" he demanded as he shakily picked up three large envelopes with College logos stamped on the front. All wanting his brother, all saying that the screwed up bundle of certificates meant something important and held value.

For Dean they were three letters too much for him to accept, all desperate to take his little brother away from his family and offer him the bright dream of normal, and he shredded them in a cold fury. How dare they want to pull his family apart like this.

John stood wordless in the doorway as he watched his oldest child rip the letters apart and could only guess at what they said. Dean sensing his presence looked at him, his eyes dark and angry and John turned away, not wanting to face him or the feeling that he had pushed his youngest away because of his own guilt.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

They had driven through the night to reach Bridgeton and as they pulled up by the large sprawling train depot dawn was starting to spill a weak wash of light over the sprawling mess of old factories and faded industries, a town in decline looking cold and unwelcoming but offering up the means of an escape for Sam.

Mr Harrison had managed to chat most of the journey keeping at bay any thoughts of sleep. He was a good man, Sam could acknowledge as he talked about his job, his family, about his normal and ordinary life.

Whenever the older man spoke of his family, his three boy, it hurt to hear such pride in his voice. Mr Harrison undiluted delight in his boys achievement, two in college the third close to follow, was all he had ever wanted from his dad but had never got it, nor ever would.

Not once had he felt a sense of such pride in his father's voice for him. Hell the one thing he thought would be a certainty to get his father to show some modicum of belief in him was this scholarship to Stanford and just look how that had played out. He was still to his dad the screwed up second rated son no matter what he did.

Sighing he closed his eyes briefly to stop the tears from spilling as he knew that even worse than his father disapproval was that his brother felt the same.

Harrison studied for a discreet second the silent profile of the young man as he drew to a halt by the train yard and could see something on his face that screamed of an unspoken hurt.

Whatever the reasons for him leaving for California he knew it was not without a background of pain behind it. All he knew was that if any one of his boys just upped and left like this kid clearly had, with only a small holdall of possessions, he would have chased after him and dragged him back home. Family to Clive Harrison was everything.

All through out their long journey he had talked and hoped for the boy to open up, perhaps steer him back from a troubled journey, but the boy polite as he was had remained tight lipped. Turning to him he sighed as he was given a brief appreciative smile before the boy hopped out of the truck. It was a simple silent goodbye, a nod of thanks between two strangers.

Fighting down the urge to call him back Harrison watched the boy disappear in the grey morning light around a corner, holdall swung tight over his right shoulder, and felt an odd moment of regret. The kid needed help but he just didn't know how to give it to him. He wasn't his son after all and he wondered what the boy's father might be thinking right about now as he watched him disappear.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam sank down on turning the corner against the cold touch of a rough concrete wall and slowly inched down in a squat to the ground and sat on his holdall as a seat. The cooling touch of the wall felt good against his still throbbing shoulder and arm.

He knew he should have been more vocal with his thanks to Mr Harrison on leaving the sanctuary of the truck but the ability to speak without tears just seemed beyond him at the moment.

The sting from unshed tears burnt his eyes, as he cursed silently to himself at the need within him to have his brother by his side. Damn it to hell, why hadn't Dean spoken up for him, why couldn't he had just been pleased for him or even a smidgeon proud of him? Just this once when he needed him most.

Perhaps his brother really did believe that any independent thought had to die under the direction of their dad's will? Is this what he thought made a Winchester so bloody special. To stand always to attention with the ubiquitous 'Yes Sir' on your lips for the man, with no thoughts or desires of your own to speak of? .

Stubbornly refusing the luxury of tears, instead letting the internal fury of self righteousness hold tight around his heart, he knew that he had made this life change choice and now he had to stick to it. No matter how much it might hurt.

With the cold numbing his bones in the early morning chill he knew that he had to find a way onto one of those freight cars standing still to attention down in the train yard waiting for a driver to take them onwards. As long as it was no longer heading north he didn't care where this new journey went. If it took him out of Michigan it would be a good enough start.

After a few minutes spent studying the depot Sam had already clocked the sole security guard half dozing in a wooden shed near the front gate. Thankfully he couldn't see any flesh eating half crazed guard dogs and guessed that the only thing he had to worry about was a half sleeping guard and the few CCTV cameras dotted haphazardly around.

Harrison had gotten him to the train yard just before the morning shift began it seemed and this made him slipping in for a free ride all very doable he realised with a happy grin. Fate may well be just smiling back down on him again.

Looking carefully at the stationery trains he decided that a large grey engined train already hooked up a to string of freight cars was his was his best option. Located west of the yard it was far away not to demand the attention of any unwelcome eyes.

Getting back on to his feet he quickly made the distance to a weak spot in the fenced-off yard and slipped easily over the mesh wired barrier before slinking quickly and silently down to his ride out of Bridgeton.

Picking a lock had always been an easy skill for Sam and soon he was inside the dark confines of a freight car shipping out boxed up car parts. The air felt musty with engine oil and metal but at least the boxcar was warm. With a grin of easy satisfaction he nestled in between two of the large containers and drew his knees up to his chin and waited patiently for his ride to start up.

By the time the freight train had pulled out of Bridgeton Sam had fallen into an uneasy sleep, with the added clack-clack rhythm of wheels on the track riding over sleepers and points keeping him held under the sway of dark dreams and memories.

A wiser and older Winchester might have lain down a barrier of salt before taking this unknown journey but Sam was still a little too green to think that anything unnatural would come his way. After all it was now day and didn't Dean always say that spirits preferred the dark of night to do their worse.

As he twisted on his side into a more comfortable position a frown marred his forehead as a dream screamed a warning at him, and he shivered still deep in sleep as an icy presence oozed its way through the freight-car wall to take solid form.

Coal black eyes stared at his sleeping form and frowned in annoyance before he hissed out a warning. "Pretty boys glowing brightly in the dark shouldn't be riding the company trains like this. No free rides allowed. Not on my watch."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

_**TBC**_

Feed back always appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

The usual blah blah blah disclaimers apply about owing nothing Supernatural.

Again as before all mistakes are sadly mine as I continue with my quest to pimp the Limp while piling on the angst for the Winchesters! Hope you enjoy, feedback would be nice too!

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 3 - A satellite free of orbit**

Dean drew up outside the store and waited for a moment before going in. Studying the faded frontage he wondered why he hadn't even noticed the name on the sign before. For almost half a year Sam had spent time in this place and he didn't even know the name of the store.

Since arriving in this quiet little town he realised that he knew virtually nothing about his little brother's life out side of hunting and it was a painful revelation. Still Sam hadn't offered to share and he hadn't bothered to ask, but that didn't stop him feeling like a sorry excuse for a big brother since last night. When he found his brother he would make things right again, but not before he gave him a good whack around the back of the head for hiding so much from him.

On entering the general store he eyed the mousy haired slim built middle-aged man behind the counter and threw a friendly smile his way figuring there was no need to antagonise the man if he could be pumped for useful information on Sammy. "Hi," he drawled softly, "You must be Mr O'Malley"

"No sir, that name died with the last owner. Names Hewitt." The storekeeper looked back at the younger man with a suspicious stare. He had seen the black car currently parked outside a few times around town and heard whispers that it was Sam's brother's who drove it but had never seen this stranger before.

Dean paused and coughed more than a little embarrassed. Damn it he really should have known his name he cursed to himself as he noted the sour look on the man's face. Throwing him his most charming smile he stopped by the counter. "Sorry Mr Hewitt. I'm Dean Winchester, Sam's older brother."

"Hmmp. You don't say!" sniffed back Hewitt decidedly unimpressed by the introduction. The careful swagger of the older Winchester had already rubbed him up the wrong way and he could hardly believe that this man was Sam's brother. Like chalk and cheese they looked so different he just couldn't see the brotherly connection. "Sam's mentioned you a few times before."

"Is that so?" came back Dean with a frown not sure if that was a good thing or not before he threw him a small over confident grin. "All good I hope."

"With your brother you can do no wrong," answered Hewitt with more than a hint of sarcasm to his voice before he asked abruptly. "So what can I do for you Mr Winchester?"

Wincing at the tone Dean took a deep breath before answering. "It's about Sammy. There was a bit of a problem last night, you know the sort of thing with teenagers and dads and he stormed off. I need to find him and bring him home."

The storekeeper stared at him as he digested the information and shrugged. "The boy's all grown if he wants some chill out time from your father then its his choice." He turned his back to Dean in dismissal and continued stacking the shelf behind the counter with cigarettes.

Holding his temper in check Dean didn't take that for his final answer and spoke purposely to his back. "Please Mr Hewitt. Sam needs his family and him wandering off like this has us all very worried. If you know where he is or could help point me to a friend that might know then I would be really grateful."

The storekeeper turned back to him with a cocked eyebrow and with an accusing tone to his voice demanded, "If you were that concerned why haven't I seen you or his family around for him since he started working here?"

Dean shook his head in denial but Hewitt continued, pointing an accusing finger at him, "I've seen that boy turn up for work each day not knowing if he's gonna come in with a new collection of bruises to add to his last. Does your dad have something to do with that. Is that why Sam's left home?"

Clearly shocked at the accusation Dean threw up his hands in a hasty denial "Hey no way man, our dad wouldn't raise a hand to my brother and if you spoke to Sam he'd say the same."

"If you say so," answered Hewitt sourly not entirely convinced and went back to restock the shelf. Once or twice he had asked the boy directly himself about the bruises and had gotten the same answer.

One thing for sure was that he knew that Sam could take care of himself, possessing a mean right hook, having seen him deal with a drunken pair of goons threatening to smash up his shop when he had refused to serve them liquor. The way Sam had sorted out the two drunkards had seriously impressed him and it was hard to think that he'd let his dad beat on him.

Dean rocked on the balls of his feet and chewed his bottom lip knowing that he really needed this man's help if he was going to have any chance of finding out where Sam might have gone. With more than a hint of frustration in his voice he confessed, "Look sir, I won't make excuses for my family's way of life, and the odd bruise or two comes with the job, but letting the kid get hurt is the last thing we want. Sammy's what makes family important to us both. "

Pausing he was grateful when Hewitt turned back to look at him again and could sense some of the mistrust starting lifting from the man and he continued. "I know we haven't been around much lately but Sam fully understood the reasons why."

It was the wrong thing to say as Hewitt bristled again. "Just like you weren't around for that boy's graduation? My daughter Kerry was in the same class as Sam this year and it was plain shameful what his family did to him that day."

He frowned at seeing the blank look on Dean's face before continuing, "If that had been my son and he was made class Valedictorian I would have been sitting in the stands cheering him on till I was blue in the face."

Dean's mouth fell open at the revelation and he found himself stuttering out in a tight painful whisper. "He was what? I didn't…he didn't tell me…. hell I didn't know."

Hewitt watched the younger man's face fall apart, eyes hollow with guilt and felt a pang of regret at blurting out this apparently unknown news so forcefully. Since he first started working for him he had gotten to like and respect Sam and his Kerry clearly adored him, and for him stand so alone on such an important day had just seemed inherently wrong to witness.

What made it worse is that Sam had seemed to think it as normal and was clearly embarrassed by all the fuss they had made of him later. The lad just didn't expect such praise from his family that much he had gathered and clearly found it awkward to accept it from others.

Even after the ceremony it had taken a fair amount of sweet-talking and bullying on Kelly's behalf to get him to come with them for a graduation dinner later on. Leaving him on his own just hadn't felt right. But what he had found slightly distressing as a father was how genuinely moved the boy seemed by their inclusion of him into their celebrations.

Finding out that his family hadn't known about this honour was more than a surprise. Shaking his head sadly he couldn't help but wonder just how much Sam had kept hidden from all of them?

Putting aside his shock Dean voice cracked a little as he asked. "Please sir, I really do need to find him. Whatever you may think of me I care for my brother, he's my responsibility and I need to know he's okay."

Seeing the sincerity plastered over his face, the cocksure swagger gone with a slump of shoulders, Hewitt let go of his anger. "Look son your brother is a good kid and I hate to see anything happen to him. If you really need to find him go speak to my Kelly."

He paused seeing something akin to hope resurface on the young man's face and taking a quick glance at his watch added. "My daughter will be in Bernice's diner right about now. The gang usually meet up for breakfast. Sam might even be with them."

Nodding fast Dean was grateful for the information. "Thanks Sir." Warily he looked at the man before confessing, "If I had known I would have been there, for him - for my little brother."

With a shrug of his shoulders the older man answered more bitterly than he had intended. "All I knows is that you weren't and it bothers me frankly that his family didn't think it important enough to support him just for one day. I'd have been so proud of him."

"I've always been proud of the little geek." confessed Dean softly as he made his way to the exit his eyes smarting from unshed tears. Just what else was he going to find out about his Sammy today that he should have already known?

Before he left Mr Hewitt called after him. "You just make sure that lanky piece of string is okay. Tell him to take a few days off if he needs time to sort things out with your dad. His job will still be here for him."

All Dean could do was mutely nod, fearful that he might not be able to keep that sting of tears at bay if he answered.

As he walked out of the store he took a steadying breath. The kid was tearing his armour apart bit by bit and he didn't know how he was going to be able to deal with seeing him face-to-face after this latest revelation. Hell they hadn't even bothered to ring and wish him good luck on graduating, just assumed he would be glad of the escape from school.

Trust uber-geek Sammy to do so well that within five months he'd became top in his year, but him keeping it so quiet like this just wasn't natural and he had to ask himself again since when had Sam stopped telling him things?

As he drove down the main street towards the diner his mind was somersaulting all over the place. What would dad say on this latest piece of news. Valedictorian and not one word spoken about it from his little brother. Freaky little runt really had run a blinder past them this time. Now he could understand why those fancy colleges were chasing after his brother's ass so keenly. He was too fucking clever by half.

As he rounded the corner to the diner and parked up his heart beat harder wondering if he would clock eyes on his secretive little brother sitting back, no doubt laughing and having an easy breakfast with the 'gang' as he worried his ass off. Hell with things playing out the way there were he'd either deck him or hug him when he saw him next.

As he left the car he knew that what ever rawest emotion was nearest to breaking through would mark how he dealt with his brother after he got him back. Right now he wasn't just sure which one would win the day. Personally he felt inclined to smack first then go with the hug second.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Hissing was not part of the rhythmic noise of the train on the track and Sam slowly awoke with the unsettling sound in his ears. Eyes adjusting to the dimly lit space he was jerked fully awake at sensing something standing over.

'What the hell?' he asked fearfully as the hairs on his scalp tingled in alarm and his heart yammered painfully in his chest already knowing the answer.

Struggling hastily to his feet he stood face to face with his unexpected visitor and his guts churned at the familiar smell of ozone filling the freight car. 'You stupid idiot' he rebuked himself silently at seeing just who is unwelcome company was. 'Prove your dad right why don't you Sam.'

Sam had seen enough ghosts to know what he faced. Dressed in an old-fashioned conductors suit Casper of the railways was making himself known and he didn't seem friendly at all as he continued to hiss his displeasure through clenched yellowed teeth.

Feeling for his canvas bag with his feet Sam wished it was in his hand so that he could at least pull out his shotgun and shoot a round of rock-salt at it.

"Free rides are not allowed on my trains you lowlife scum," growled the apparition stabbing an accusing bony finger at Sam who instinctively took a step back only to meet solid wall. "You hobos are all the same sneaking on when my back's turned."

Putting his hands out to try and placate the disgruntled spirit Sam managed to mutter out hurriedly. "Sorry Sir, give me a chance and I'll pay for a ticket. If you'll let me just get my bag."

Sam eyed him wondering just how long this spook had been haunting the trains. The spirit for his part seem to weigh up Sam's offer of payment, his sole purpose left on this earth to enforce his discipline on the company trains and asked harshly. "You got the eight buck fare? If not I'll kick your sorry ass so fast off my train moving or not …"

Nodding his understanding nervously Sam reached down for the canvas holdall in pretence of searching for his wallet. Cursing that he had packed the bag in such a rush he fingered around the jumbled mix for his gun but it evaded his reach most likely at the bottom of the pile of stuff he had crammed in there.

The ghostly conductor's black eyes narrowed as he waited impatiently and the air grew distinctly colder seeming to snatch the breath from Sam's lungs in a river of white mist. "Just like I said you low life hobos are all the same. You can't play me for a fool, no sir, not Chester Fields - I've been round longer than free-riding scum like you have drawn breath…"

Sam warned by Fields blanket statement jerked his head up just in time to see the apparition reach down for him. Before he could pull away dead fingers, ice cold to the touch, squeezed around his throat to lift him off his feet to throw him with frightening speed across the freight car.

Crashing with unnatural force into one of the crates Sam yelped in both shock and pain. With his head muzzy from the impact, he sourly thought that his last one to one encounter with a ghost had been decidedly more friendly. Chester Fields was certainly no David.

Getting ungainly back on to his feet ignoring the warm trickle down the back of his neck he knew that this angry spirit's sole reason for staying earth bound was his perverted moralistic need to keep control of _his_ train, and to keep people like _him_ off them. Nothing he said would stop the ghost now, only the physical force of a full blasting of rock salt would put a halt to him doing more harm. He prayed.

Muttering a well used Latin incantation under his breath to ward the spirit off as best he could he staggered back for his bag. This time his panic served him well and he was able to reach into the bag and pull out his gun.

Fields sensing something different in this drifter lunged again, managing to snag at an arm to lift Sam clear off his feet as he elevated them both upwards to hover a few feet above the floor. "You bastards are all the same, but I'll show you not to mess with me."

Sam grunted in pain as his left shoulder bruised from the night before burned even more under the weight it was now supporting as he was suspended in the air, his head brushing against the ceiling.

Ignoring the ripples of agony running from his arm and upper torso he managed to raise his free right hand to manoeuvre the gun around to point it directly at the angry spectre. He locked eyes briefly with the dead conductor before he pulled back the hammer and blasted a round into his withered husk of a face.

On impact Fields screamed an ungodly sound his solid form instantly unfurling in a wave of grey smoke and Sam fell back on to the floor in untidy tangle of arms and leg, though with his gun still held firmly in his hand.

Looking around hurriedly to make sure the ghost had evaporated and not reformed in the shadows he let out a shaky breath of relief before he crawled back to his holdall and snatched it up.

He only had one more round of rock-salt in the gun and reasoned he couldn't afford to take on the spirit again if it returned, especially if he didn't hit it bang to rights. No he reasoned dispassionately it was time for him to leave the freight car and the rest of the goddam train to freaky Chester Fields as he hauled himself up on wobbly legs.

Pulling back the sliding door to the freight car he watched in grim fascination as the countryside went by in a blur of shapes and colour in the bright mid afternoon sunshine, the air whipping around him buffering him back slightly.

It was too fast to jump safely yet he knew and he prayed desperately for the train to decelerate so he could search out a soft looking area to jump into. The softer the better would be nice he thought to himself with grim smile.

As he waited for the train to slow down he could reflect that in his haste to leave Michigan that he hadn't packed wisely, snatching up only what had been at hand in his room. It had been a mistake as salt and bullets were the staple needs that his family lived by and just because he was escaping the life they lived didn't mean he wasn't going to have face the supernatural on his own.

A small giggle rose in his throat as an absurd thought played a cartoon image in his head of him stopping in front of dad and asking for a box of bullets and a tub of salt to tide him over before he stormed out of their lives. Oh, yeah the look on his dad's face would have been priceless and he could just imagine the language that would have followed. Still a box of carefully doctored bullets right about now would have been a nice luxury to have at hand.

Shaking his head he knew that he had been seriously unprepared, and Chester Fields proved that point all to well, with the damp patch on the back of his collar from a bleeding head wound reinforcing his stupidity.

Perhaps dad really had been right all these years. Perhaps he really was a major screw up in the making. What had he been thinking of going into the unknown without the proper back up? He should have been able to deal with this spirit on his own, shouldn't he?

Now as he waited for the train to slow down he struggled to think on what were his best options as doubt crept back after his initial response to jump and run. Should he stay and battle it out with only one rock-salt bullet to his name?

He could hear clearly in his head his brother's response of 'Hell yes - a Winchester never ran from a fight' and knew that his big badass older brother would demand that he stand his ground and destroy this ornery ghost. Scrubbing a shaky hand over his face he wavered, unsure of what to do next the ache in his head matching his confusion. When had thinking got so damned hard he wondered?

Then a sound, a familiar hiss behind him grew ominously louder, nearer. Daring a quick look over his shoulder he saw the spirit racing towards him, its face distorted in inhuman rage. Survival instinct took over and gave him his answer and he tucked the gun hastily back in the holdall decision made.

Jump now, think later.

He leapt with his heart in his mouth grateful at least that the train had started to slow down and the ground beneath looked green enough to cushion his fall as gravity pulled him down to meet it at too fast a speed.

The ghost screamed furiously reaching after him as he jumped out of the freight car, venting in cold fury as his prize eluded him but was unable to follow.

All Sam could think as he hit the ground hard was at least he wouldn't have to deal with his dad's criticism on screwing up again, because on this one he was truly on his own, before he rolled a few times to come to a bone jarring halt.

And god did he hurt in more places than his body was willing to count.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

His head throbbed with a continual headache, his sore eyes heavy from lack of sleep despite the many beers he had consumed through the night. Not even the beating spray of water from the shower could refresh his tired body.

As he stepped out of the shower John Winchester looked at his unshaved face in the mirror, saw the deep worry lines around his eyes and greying hair of his newly growing beard and he sagged back down on the edge of the bath feeling suddenly way too old.

The face leering back at in the mirror had mocked him reminding too much of a younger image, so much like himself it hurt to see it.

The world had always looked at Sam and saw the father in him, the same dark hair and height, but what they couldn't sense was the spirit of the boy, the inheritance that came from Mary inside of him. It touched his soul, make him different from him and Dean and he just hadn't been able to deal with it.

For the last few years for what he thought were for all the right reasons he had tried his damnedest to drive that gentle side of his nature out of him, thinking it would make him stronger and more prepared for the future to come, and instead all he had done was drive him away.

As he contemplated his mistakes he could acknowledge in bitter irony that the demon may have torn Mary from their family but it was by his own doing that he was destroying what was left behind.

Letting his youngest boy leave like this had to be the most stupid thing he had ever done. If his oldest didn't find Sam soon, couldn't bridge the gap between them, then it was a mistake that might never be fixed the consequences he couldn't bear thinking about.

"You old fool Johnny, thinking you could change him like that, change what Mary had made." he admitted to himself, as a terrible feeling started to worry its way into his belly.

Closing his eyes he could fleetingly see the image of his youngest again walking away from him before the image blurred to move faster, drawn further away from him with no intention of ever turning back. Like a satellite free of its orbit he was spinning rapidly away from the safety of his family.

John groaned realising his mistake. "Oh god, son why have you always been so stubborn? Why couldn't you have stayed for Dean's sake?"

Getting up again on firmer legs he stood in front of the mirror and scowled at the reflected image. As he studied his haggard face he shook his head in denial. One thing though was certain he wasn't going to lose Dean too. He'd make sure that damn well didn't happen next. No way in hell would he lose both boys.

It was with a tremor in his hand that he picked up his razor, before he lathered up his face and took the first swipe of clearing the stubble from his face. At least he could present a more human face to his oldest he told himself and not this gnarled up bitter man who had driven his brother away.

God forbid Dean see the monster that sometimes lurked beneath the veneer at times.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

As he walked into the diner he instantly clocked the shopkeepers daughter at the front counter. Kelly Hewitt looked like her dad, thought Dean dryly, with the same dull blonde hair, slim build and slightly hooked nose. Not essentially pretty, and most definitely not running to his own tastes, but as he listened with an attentive ear he could understand why his brother had been hanging round with her.

She had an easygoing chatty personality and possessed an infectious laugh as she shared a joke with the waitress. Yeah, thought Dean ruefully, she had the same sort of goofy laugh his brother had.

After giving her order she walked briskly back to the end booth in the diner and disappeared as she dropped into the wooden booth. His eyes following after her and he tried to see if his brother was sitting with the small group of teenagers but the booth sides were too tall. His stomach knotting in anticipation he walked after her, fingers crossing mentally that his brother would be sitting there stuffing himself with doughnuts.

Three pairs of appreciative female eyes all turned up to him as he halted by the booth which he pointedly ignored, his face souring at noting that his brother wasn't with them. "Kelly?" he asked directing his stare to her, already knowing the answer.

She gave him an admiring smile and Dean took a small breath. "Hi, I'm Dean. You know my brother…"

"Sam." she answered quickly, her admiring look of before disappearing as she frowned up at him with a judging air. Her eyes flicked over him again, saw his chiselled features, large green eyes, full lips, short dark blond hair and knew what the other girls besides her were feeling was akin to lust but inside she felt nothing but anger towards him.

All she could see was that this was the big brother that Sam trusted so implicitly, so idolised, that he couldn't see the damage it caused to him. She had been around too many times watching as Sam had waited desperately for one miserable phone call from the man, and knew of the many nights he had sat alone in that godawful house his dad rented across the town waiting for his big brother to return. She wouldn't treat a dog the way the Winchesters treated her Sam. So no, Dean Winchester, would never be on her top ten list of favourite people. Ever.

Dean a little taken aback by the abrupt chill she was projecting at him quickly asked. "It's like this Kelly I spoke with your dad and he said you might be able to help me."

"Why would Pops think that I could help you?" demanded Kelly with more than a hint of distrust behind her words.

On seeing her eyes narrow further he wondered if all the Hewitt's were this prickly and not for the first time that morning and he wondered what the hell had Sam been telling them. This was going to be one long day if all his little brother's friends were going to be so difficult and cagey around him. Perhaps he really should have splashed on a little bit more cologne on this morning as his normal Mr Wonderful patented charm seemed to be not working today.

The five other teenagers in the booth had tensed but held their tongues on hearing a quality to their friend's voice that spoke of confrontation and all eyes hooked on to Dean to see how he responded.

Fighting down his temper he gave her a winning smile instead and leant in next to her, hands on the table to support his weight but with a hint of a warning in his eyes, "Kelly I need to know if you saw Sammy last night or maybe this morning. He and dad had a bit of a bust up and I need to find him fast."

Sensing the dangerous quality to the man towering over them the boys in the group stiffened in the booth but soon looked away as Dean stared them down before he turned his attention back to the feisty eighteen year old girl blocking his path to his brother.

Kelly though was yet to be intimidated and gave him a hard stare in return as she answered. "If Sam's left then it's his choice, right? Tells me a lot that here you are trying to hunt him down not having a clue of where to look, eh? Personally I can't see why Sam idolises you the way he does. I always thought you'd be Mr Macho Pistol in you Pants type of guy no matter how your brother tried to soften the image."

"Look I don't know what your beef is but if you know where my brother is you'd better cough it up fast sweetheart," demanded Dean not showing how thrown he was by her bitter tirade against him.

Kelly shook her head anger clear in her eyes. "Even if I knew where Sam was I wouldn't tell you that's for sure. Sam's my friend and I'll not be bullied into telling you a damn thing."

Dean leant in even close so that his breath tickled the side of her face as he spat out. "You may not like it but Sam is my brother. He may act like a geek in your little exclusive club of nerds but best believe me he's a Winchester through and through and you have about as much chance of landing him in the sack with your skinny little ass as I have of becoming President."

A gaggle of collective gasps erupted in the booth and around the diner and Kelly went pink faced and Dean knew that he had hit the mark square on. The girl seriously had the hots for his little brother.

Storming to her feet, her secret crush revealed to all, Kelly pushed by Dean forcibly with a curse on her lips and he clearly heard the word 'Asshole' directly at him, before she shouted at the waitress to kill her order. "I've lost my appetite Bernie, I'll take a rain-check until tomorrow when hopefully this place will be jerk free."

"Charming girl. Her daddy must be so proud…" Dean muttered before turning his attention back to the way too silent sullen teenagers in the booth. God save him from angst filled teenagers and their issues and his fist knuckled to reflect his inner thoughts.

"So do you guys have any ideas where my brother might be?" he demanded and he waived a finger in warning, "and I don't want any more of Miss Prissy Princess attitude if you get my drift."

When he got near to nothing useful out of them his levels of frustration rose with his temper. That little bitch Kelly had to know something, as judging from the talk from the other kids it was with her that Sammy hung around with most of the time, and if he had to drag it screaming and kicking out of the girl he would.

The time for playing Mr Nice Guy had gone as his Sam had been missing for half a day and he was getting nowhere fast in finding him.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

"Daddy look, that scarecrow has fallen down," pointed out little Veronica Huffman with a stubby finger to the field they were driving past. "It's all broken up. See daddy."

Her dad's eyes drifted over to where his little girl was pointing only to slam on the breaks throwing Veronica forwards to be met by the resistance of her seatbelt. "Daddy?" she cried out in alarm more than a little confused at her dad's reaction. "What is it?"

Scrambling out the car Dave Huffman rushed to the side of the road and looked across the field to where a bundled up figure lay curled up. "Sweet Jesus and Mary. That's not a scarecrow…."

TBC 

_**Bit of a cliffie, hey! Feedback is always nicely received. **_


	4. Chapter 4

_**The disclaimers apply about owing nothing Supernatural.**_

**_Again as before all mistakes are sadly mine – I just hope you enjoy and as always feedback is most warmly received. Also I just want to say a huge mega thanks for all the wonderful and supportive reviews received so far. All of them have helped this slowcoach writer to speed things up a bit with the posting! Roz._**

* * *

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 4 - A catalogue of errors**

Kelly Hewitt felt something akin to grief as she sat alone on the park bench in the pale morning sunshine. After calling around all her friends without any success for the last two hours she knew that Sam Winchester had just upped and left without saying a word to her. No phone call, no text message, nothing.

Her best friend had left her behind without a word of goodbye and no matter how many voicemail messages she had left he hadn't bothered to return any of them. Stupidly she really had felt that she had meant more to him than this. That she had offered him more than just fill in time between school and college.

Little broken sobs could be let out now as it hurt to much to keep them hidden inside any longer, because she had dared to believe that he would want her the same way she had wanted him. Clearly now that was delusional thinking especially judging by what his brother had said and guessed now that she really never did have a chance with him. What made it worse was knowing that the boy had broken her heart without even trying.

By the time Dean had caught up with her in the park she was sitting puffy eyed and red nosed and he sat down silently besides her. He had been harsh with her earlier letting his temper rule his head but seeing the once feisty young girl so broken made him feel more than a twinge of guilt.

Clearing his throat, offering her a tissue, he confessed. "I'm sorry if I upset you earlier. I have a mean mouth and I can let it run off with me at times. I'm sure Sam would have told you that. You were right to call me an asshole."

Kelly turned red-rimmed eyes to Dean taking the offered tissue and blew her nose. The older Winchester was offering a softer side to that of the over-bearing smart mouthed man in the Diner and she wondered was this the man his brother saw and idolised. "Your wrong. Sam never said one bad thing about you. Not ever."

Dean swallowed hard at the truthful confession but still had to ask, "You haven't spoken with him, have you?"

"No," sighed Kelly before blowing her nose again. Turning back to him she gave him another tearful look and asked with a tremor to her voice, "I rang him so many times but he's not picking up."

"Yeah well the dork broke his phone last night. That's why he's not picking up."

A fresh spill of tears run down her cheeks at hearing the reason why he hadn't answered her calls and it gave her some comfort. Sniffling still slightly she whispered, "He's really gone hasn't he? Where do you think he'll go?"

Dean struggled to speak, as his chest tightened at having to acknowledge that which he feared most. Sam was gone. Since last night. Alone. On his own. "California. The geek got a full ride to Stanford."

"Oh," responded Kelly softly not at all surprised that he gotten into such a prestigious school. Wiping the tears away again she smiled weakly at him. "You all must have been real proud of him. If I got scholarship like that I think my dad would have wet himself with excitement."

Dean sighed and closed his eyes seeing the fight of last night replay itself in his mind and hated now that he had kept his silence. Letting his dad and brother tear strips of each other was never a pretty sight but he thought that dad's final words would have stopped him from leaving.

In hindsight he should have stepped in after dad's ultimatum then things might have calmed down enough for him to talk some sense into him. Walking away from his little brother to follow after dad had been stupid.

To let Sam think that they weren't proud of him cut to the bone now and he wondered was that why the kid had had kept his silence about all his achievements, thinking that they just wouldn't give a damn about them.

Now too late he realised there had been too many silences, too many secrets that had crept in between them and it had allowed them to push his little brother away.

Kelly shifted besides him a little uncomfortable at the sudden silence and Dean sensing her discomfort gave her a weary look and confessed sadly. "Lets just say dad didn't exactly jump up and down for joy when he found out about college. And he said a few choice things that hurt Sam and now I think he believes that we both don't care."

As he saw her face crinkle in confusion at Sam getting such a negative response about Stanford he wanted to scream out that he knew this wasn't fair but all their dad knew was that going off to college wouldn't keep him protected. Not from the dark and ugly things out there.

Yet here the boy was doing exactly what they feared the most and to make things worse he had no freaking idea where he was now. Now all he knew is that a major fucked up catalogue of errors had led to him losing his brother.

Just how bad things could get from here scared the hell out of him.

Kelly watched him carefully, her voice throaty and phlemgy from all the crying that she had done so that it sounded strange to her own ears as she commented hopefully, "May be he'll ring me later and he still has to pick up his pay check for last week, right?" Hope flared inside her and she added, "Besides college is months away, what's he gonna do till then?"

Dean looked at her, could sense the thoughts whirring in her head and took a steadying breath not wanting to see her deflate again under the weight of fresh tears. "Well I have a feeling he may go to Berkley to stay with an old family friend till college starts."

Already he could be on a plane flying off to California acknowledged Dean bitterly. It was what Jennings had always wanted for his brother and now he would get to play out some weird pseudo father-son relationship with his brother. Anger flared again at the thought, knowing that the kid couldn't have wounded his dad more than by going to that man.

Since Farnborough, whatever had happened between those once close friends had disintegrated into open hatred of each other. Despite all of that he knew that Sam had kept in contact with Jennings, the odd phone call here and there, despite how much his dad hated it. But for Sam to go to him like this was akin to pushing a knife into his dads' guts then twisting it good and hard to inflict the maximum damage.

Bowing her head Kelly breath hiccupped as she fought down fresh tears at the thought that Sam was racing so quickly out of her life. "It must have been a doozy of fight he had with your dad to make him storm off like this. California is a world away. "

Sneering Dean answered, "Well even if I have to drive all the way to Berkley I going to track down the big lummox and haul his sorry ass back here screaming and kicking."

Kelly shook her head, her eyes clearer and her voice stronger. "Your brother is one of the nicest gentlest most generous persons I know, but he's also the most stubborn bloody minded person I've ever met. If he sets his mind to do something he does it. If he wants Stanford I can't see how you can stop him."

Dean scowled, all to aware the truth behind her words. "Yeah, well if I've got anything to say about it he's coming home."

Getting up quickly readying for action he looked at the girl again, "Come on Kelly least I can do is give you a lift back into town. Might add to your air of mystique to be seen with the Mr Naughty for once. Bound to get all your girlfriends gossiping…"

Kelly gave a half laugh not entirely convinced but let herself be led back to where he had parked. Looking at the sleek black car she felt the tears rim her eyes again and she tried desperately to blink them away.

"Hey I know she a beauty but no need to go all weak at the knees" jibbed Dean lightly at seeing her become tearful again not quite sure why she would become so emotional at the sight of the impala. Had Sam snuck her in there a few times like he had with an old girlfriend back in California?

"Your dad gave you this car for your eighteenth birthday", answered Kelly slowly, fingering the paintwork in thought, "Sam told me you know. Said that you beamed ear to ear when he gave you the keys. He always had such pride in you."

Dean frowned and fingered the keys in his hands remembering the day clearly. The fact that his normally undemonstrative dad had given him a huge hug and the impala for his eighteenth birthday had shocked him greatly. Their dad was a man of few words but Sam had never suffered with the inability to let him know how he felt and told him just how cool it was to have such an awesome older brother before he demanded that he drive him to school to show off that morning.

"Yeah dad gave me the car. It was a good day." Dean answered finally before adding with a dry chuckle, "Sam thought I was his personal taxi driver after that."

"You know I was with Sam when he turned eighteen," offered up Kelly her voice trembling as she continued to trace absently a pattern on the hood of the car. "I watched him try to be happy. You know for me, for his friends and he let himself be dragged over out to the multiplex and had pizza later but he wasn't really with us. Because he was with you and your dad no matter how far away you were. At least his heart was."

Dean swallowed uncomfortably knowing that she had more to say and she locked eyes with him tears spilling freely now as she added. "But I was there watching his heart break bit by bit as he waited all day for one stinking little call from you or your dad, but it didn't come, did it?"

Dean remembered he had rung the next day, his head more than a little sore after a run in with one mean spirited poltergeist. It had near killed him he had missed his brother's birthday like he had, but he seriously had thought that dad had rung him, told him what had happened, let him know that they'd be back soon to celebrate it with him. To hear how empty a day it had been for his little brother and that his dad hadn't called was another blow to the guts.

Kelly continued, her voice colder and her eyes dark and steady as she looked at him judgingly. "Sam of course didn't say anything but I could see it hurt him. A few days later when I knew that you both had gotten back from that Oh so important job I was stupid enough to ask your brother what he got from his dad for his eighteenth and he just shrugged, saying it didn't matter, making excuses and all for his dad, for his wonderful family again."

Dean bowed his head away from her gaze now so sharp and knowing. It hurt to see such naked contempt.

Kelly gave him a grim smile as she confessed "I knew then I hated you and your dad way too much. Really hated in such a way that honestly if I had a shovel in my hands I would have bashed your brains out for making Sam love you so blindly like that. Because you know it did matter. It mattered to Sam no matter how much he tried to hide it. You get a freaking awesome car and he got nothing. You make the equation."

Straightening up Kelly backed away from the car as if its touch was suddenly poison, wiping her fingers down her jeans as if to rub its presence away.

As she started to walk away she threw over her shoulders, "I hope you realise that your dad is one sorry ass bastard Dean Winchester. You know something else I think I'm glad that Sam's left you both. I think I'm glad he's gone to Stanford because he really deserves so much more than he ever got from his family."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Raising himself onto his knees his ears ringing sharply, the back of his head throbbing viciously and his body stinging from various cuts and scrapes Sam Winchester couldn't help but allow a lopsided grin to adorn his scuffed up face.

Jumping out a speeding train without the benefits of wings and only a small prayer to soften the blow had been one the most terrifying things he had ever done, but still here he was still alive to tell the tale.

When next he heard the crunch of feet trampling the wheat crop that he found himself kneeling in he looked up to see a large man running towards him. The only problem is that the man had a twin jogging along with him and Sam blinked hard, realising that he must have whacked his head harder than he thought as the double vision continued.

A voice called out to him as the man approached breathlessly. "Hey mister, are you okay?"

"Umh, my head…" answered Sam slowly as he fingered the back of his skull pulling them away sticky with congealing blood, before wiping the mess off on the front of shirt with clear disdain, having seen to much blood already in his short life.

The shadow in front of him dipped down to kneel before him, followed by a hand on his shoulder that was suddenly supporting his weight as he lurched forwards as he started an ungraceful slump face first to the ground. As he was pulled back upwards the voice demanded, "Hey, hey stay awake if you can. What's your name?"

Sam blinked up and tried to focus on the multi headed man in front of him and managed to slur out a response. "Sam."

"Okay Sam, besides your head were else do you hurt?" asked Dave, wondering how on earth he had gotten into such a state as he looked over his torn jeans and ripped jacket.

Sam didn't answer thinking desperately on the question. Hurt, yep, but where? Hell didn't every part of him hurt just about now so he couldn't give the man a clear response other than to sigh as he sat back down on his haunches and repeated slowly. "Hurt my head."

A large hand cupped the back of his skull in support as his head lolled backwards to be followed by a soft curse of surprise at feeling the warmth of something wet seep through his fingers. At pulling his hand away it was crimson and Dave Huffman grunted in alarm.

Hurriedly he pulled Sam forward letting his face nestle into shoulder as he explored the back of his scalp to find a nasty gash that he knew needed stitches. Thankfully though the wound had started to clot and the blood loss had slowed down, and although great wasn't life threatening.

Stripping off his plaid work shirt he used it as a makeshift bandage to wrap it around Sam's head eliciting a grunt of pain in the process as he tightened it further. Being around livestock all his life for Dave Huffman the sight of blood and dealing with injuries was nothing new and instinctively did what he could for the boy.

"Listen Sam you have a nasty cut back of your head, but I don't think its anything too serious. I can't see anything broken anywhere so I'm gonna try and walk you back to my car, okay? My wife's a nurse so she can check you out better when I get you home. It's only a mile down the road."

He was rewarded by a small nod of understanding as Sam struggled with an outreached hand to find his holdall by his side. Dave seeing what he was trying to locate leant forwards and snatched it up with one hand whilst trying to pull Sam up on his uncooperative legs with the other. Grunting at the effort he managed to pull him to his feet and hitching an arm around his waist stared in a slow and unsteady walk back to the car.

Waiting as instructed in the car was his five year old daughter, Veronica, who stared at him wide eyed and with her mouth agape in astonishment watching her daddy walking back with the scarecrow she had spotted only minutes before.

"Hey Ronnie honey, don't be scared but Sam here has had a bit of an accident," smiled her dad reassuringly as he slid the injured boy into the passenger seat.

"Will mommy make him all better?" asked the young girl eyeing the red seeping through the make shift bandage around the strangers head with alarm.

"Yes Sweetie. She will sure try," replied Dave as he watched the young man in the seat beside him start to rouse, his eyes fluttering open seemingly more alert than before.

Thinking on the old bull that had got tangled in the barbwire earlier in the year Ronnie whispered more than a little scared. "What if he's too cut up daddy, will you have to shoot him like you did Harold?"

Coughing down a laugh he swung around to face his little girl and grinned at her innocence. "Hey baby I don't think the Sam here is a stupid bull like Harry. If mom can't fix him up then we'll take him to the hospital. Okay?"

Sam shook his head as his jumbled thoughts starting to clear in the warmth of the car and at hearing the man words he gasped out a response. "No sir, no hospital. I'll be fine. Got a hard head…."

Hospitals meant records taken, but more importantly it meant that his dad might find out that he screwed up in less than 24 hours of leaving home. God that would be just plain ridiculous having to face him again so soon after he wanted him lost.

No, he was still to close to Michigan to take the chance of his dad turning up with a face like thunder to tell him yet again what a freaking screw up he was.

Dave looked over the battered appearance of the boy and shook his head. "Wait until my wife can check you over. Then we'll see what's what."

Sam blinked and gave a little nod before fingering the back of his head with a wince his eyes closing once again battling against the pain.

Veronica had kept her eyes locked on the semi-awake figure. "How come he was in the field daddy? How did he get so many ouchies?"

"Well that's something we are going to have to wait for Sam here to tell us," answered her dad as he restarted the engine, praying that his wife would be able to sort the kid out. He really didn't fancy a two hour drive over to the County Hospital.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Flinging his keys down on the kitchen table Dean sat down in defeat. Sam had well and truly taken off and not left a clue behind as to where he had gone. The bus station had no record of him buying a ticket and not one of his friends had been in contact with him.

Maybe dad was right, that Jennings already had his hooks into his brother. It wouldn't have been too much of a stretch for his brother to get to the airport and from there a flight to California was just too real a possibility, especially if the professor was footing the bill.

Angrily he drew out the wad of cash and credit card his dad had shoved in his hand the night before to give to Sam and knew that it might already too late to show the boy just how much they truly cared for him. Slamming them down on the tabletop he wanted to scream out his frustration and pain.

The failure of not being there for Sam tore at his guts. From his graduation, being freaking valedictorian to a fucked up missed eighteenth birthday, all of it had slipped under his radar and the worse thing was knowing that Sam must have thought he hadn't cared enough to find out. Hell half the town knew more about his little brother than he did.

Why hadn't he insisted on getting back for any of that? Since when did some stupid hunt mean more to the family than his little brother?

Kelly's words had striped him bare and in truth it had been easier to let her go without a response, because what could he say to make her think any less worse of him than he did himself right now.

How hadn't he even noticed that his dad had forgotten Sam's eighteenth birthday like that? Why didn't they sit down and celebrate it later when they got back? A slight concussion and a torn knee shouldn't have stopped him from seeing all of that.

Now his moody sullen and a distant little brother made sense. Dad really had given him a loaded gun to fire at his head when he told him to go, as there hadn't been much left for him to stay for anymore. Not if this past year with his family had been anything to go by.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

"Connie," hollered Dave as he drew up outside the large farmhouse and struggled to get Sam out of the car and upright without them both toppling over. The kid may have been skinny but he was tall and gangly and he found it hard to manage him in his current half conscious state.

Veronica had already wormed her way out of the car and had sprinted up the wooden steps to call out loudly, her thin voice high hard to ignore, "Mom come quickly. Daddy's face is going purple and I think he gonna drop the man."

Dave threw his daughter a withering look as her comment, but then his wife came in a run out of the house. Quickly taking in the scene she literally jumped down the four steps to reach her husband's side and looked at the bloodied stranger in horror. "Oh my god Davey, what happened? Did you hit him with the car or something."

"No not me. He was in the field a mile back. Ronnie spotted him. Thought him a scarecrow of all things," laughed Dave weakly suddenly glad of the extra support.

Ronnie beamed at the recognition her dad have given her and followed purposely after her parents as they walked her 'scarecrow' into the house. Wrinkling her brow she followed after them, still not entirely convinced that they wouldn't have to shoot the boy like they had that stupid bull.

Sam stirred at the feel of new cool hands grabbing one arm as they entered the house but other than that the power of speech had deserted him and all he longed for was the nicety of sleep.

Connie struggling under his weight managed to ask tersely of her husband as they manoeuvred him down the hall, "Did he manage to tell you anything. About what happened?"

"Oh honey, he said his name was Sam and he's got a nasty blow to the back of head. That's all I know."

They managed to drag him into the living room but before Dave could lay him down his way too practical wife had made sure a large heavy dustsheet covered the couch. She knew just how hard it was to get blood out of fabric and didn't want her new and still pristine couch ruined.

Dave hovered in the background as his wife stripped Sam of his clothing checking for unseen breaks and other damages as she went along. Already a myriad of cuts and bruises littered his arms, legs and torso. None appeared too serious but lumped all together they had to hurt like hell.

On turning him on his side she frowned, touching an already dark purple bruise on his left shoulder extending down to the back of his left bicep. It was an older bruise than the fresher ones he was now sporting and she could only guess at how he gotten this too.

Throwing her youngest child a knowing wink Connie straightened up. "I think he'll live Ronnie. Go help daddy get the medical supplies and some warm water. Then we can clean him up and just see how handsome your scarecrow is."

Ronnie giggled at the suggestion her blue eyes bright as she asked. "If he's real pretty can we keep him, can we mommy?"

Connie waved her away with shake of her head and then set about taking off the oversized bandage that Dave had tied around his head. As she pulled the bloodied garment away she saw his face clearly for the first time and butterflies hit her stomach as she realised he was only a teenager.

She had let his height mislead her into thinking him a man, but as she looked at his young features she guessed he had to be about the same age as her Michael had been before the accident.

A wave of raw emotions washed over her. This was someone else's son lying bruised and battered in her house and yet all she could see right now was her oldest child lying equally as damaged in the hospital morgue two long years ago.

She felt the sting of hot tears as the heartbreak hit her all over again. It didn't seem fair that this new burden be put at her feet. This stranger was alive when her own had died. Why had he survived and not her baby?

Brushing away the flood of tears she knew she couldn't let herself dwell on it. This boy, this boy called Sam needed her right now and the nurse in her took over once again. Pushing back his dirty bangs she sighed again. He really was just a kid who needed her help.

Green-blue eyes fluttered open as if aware of the scrutiny he was under and Sam Winchester made himself know to Connie Huffman in spectacular style by vomiting all over her newly cleaned carpet.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

John studied his oldest boy's defeated face before his eyes froze at noticing the money and credit card on the table with the car keys. Dean hadn't found Sammy. Letting a firm hand rest on his oldest shoulder he felt him tense under the touch and troubled green eyes gazed up him as he was forced to ask, "No luck then son?"

For a moment Dean couldn't speak but when he did his voice was a hoarse whisper. "No he's really gone and left us." A tear slipped down his cheek which he didn't try to hide as he admitted out loud. "I've lost him dad. I've lost Sammy."

John Winchester sucked a deep steadying breath through clenched teeth alarmed at just how shattered Dean seemed, his body physically trembling under his under his touch. Sam's leaving was coming close to destroying the entire fabric of his family.

A memory flared in his mind, a twinge of what Kelly had said burning hard inside, and Dean pulled out from under his father's grip and almost at a run raced into the bedroom he had shared with his brother. Frantically he started to search amongst the mess of the belongings Sam had left behind.

John followed after him confused at Dean's actions as he watched him tear apart again the room. "What are you looking for son? I thought you went through all his stuff already."

"He took it with him," squatting on the bed huffed Dean finally on not finding what he had been looking for, relief flooding over his face in a large smile, and he repeated again, "The kid took it with him."

"Took exactly what?"

"The book I got for his birthday. Greek book - The Iliad or something. That damn thing cost me an arm and a leg only for him to tell me off for 'defacing' it with my cheesy birthday message on in the inside page. Said it was a collector's addition."

Dean could remember just how genuinely pleased his brother had been on getting it and also now the sense of disbelief that he had actually remembered his birthday. At the time he hadn't even given it a thought but now that's all he could think on.

"A book? Is that so damned important right now," scowled John a little disturbed at how his oldest was reacting right now.

"It was to Sam, the book meant something cos he took it with him last night," Dean looked up with bright eyes at his dad. With so much other stuff left behind this book had been important enough for his brother to want to take it with him. "It was his eighteenth dad. We got back late remember and you didn't say a word to him. Remember"

"I had things on my mind," spat out John testily not liking the accusing tone Dean was levelling at him. "You'd been hurt. I had to get you fixed up. The kid's birthday could wait a day or two."

"Yeah I know, but you never said anything later did you, you just let it slide by. You've always been busy, always so fucking busy, but still you gave me the goddam car on my eighteenth. Hell last year you gave me the Glock."

He stood up to stand nose to nose with his dad as the secrets he had learnt about his brother today shredded him from the insides out. Kelly's accusations still stung like a festering wound. "Tell me you gave him something for his eighteenth dad. Tell me that I wasn't so frigging blind not to see that too."

John's face drained of blood realising what Dean was hinting at. It really did look like he had been playing favourites with his boys. "I meant to give him a car. I had it all fixed up for him, but then money was short and I managed to get a good deal on it. You know how it goes…"

"So you sold it and forgot about his birthday all together. Classy dad, real fucking classy.

"It wasn't like that son," denied John hotly. "I just didn't know how to speak to the kid anymore. Everything I said was wrong. I just thought if I could get another car I could surprise him. Make it all right again."

How could he explain to Dean the rift between him and his youngest that had grown so wide that he couldn't even celebrate with him anymore without it feeling forced and so unnatural.

Questioning his own feelings now he asked himself had he deliberately missed his birthday just to get back at the boy with his way too ready sharp come backs and sassy mouth. He hadn't deliberately tried to hurt his youngest, had he?

"Kelly was right. He got fucking nothing and I didn't even care to notice," admitted Dean hollowly. Deep down he knew Sam would have given a rat's ass about getting a car, he had just wanted his dad to notice the day.

"I'm his brother and I didn't see one damn thing wrong with him. Not all these month. He was pulling away day by day and I couldn't see it."

"Don't Dean. I swear it was only one freaking birthday for Christ sake. Hell, I thought I could fix it all later. I thought he'd be around for me to make it up to the boy. I didn't know he was planning to run out on us. Run off to that bastard Jennings."

"You told him he was a screw up dad. He heard it often enough to believe it in the end"

"Look you know things with your brother was never easy. I just wanted him to get with the programme, get his head out of the clouds, okay? So go ahead shoot me, why don't you if you think I fucked up here?" cursed John bitterly trying to stare the guilt down with his oldest who looked back for answers which he couldn't give.

Finally Dean leant in and whispered sadly. "I found out a lot today. About Sammy. Did you know he was made Valedictorian dad?"

Flinching John's complexion grew a shade paler his jawing clenching into his neckline at this latest revelation. "Why didn't he let us know? God damn you Sammy…."

Dean shrugged in response, "Smart little bugger kept us, me, out of the loop, because he thought we wouldn't give a damn. Guess he was right, eh?"

Dark eyes locked with green and John hissed back angrily, "You know what's important to this family and Sam knew it also. We hunt, its what we do. Besides your brother didn't say he wanted us at his graduation. He didn't say a goddam thing. How was I supposed to know?"

With a voice just as hard Dean responded, "No the little geek didn't ask us to stay for it because deep down he knew what we would have said. We'd have told him it wasn't important. Worst still I let him feel like that, when I'd promised I'd always be there for him. Especially after Farnborough."

Choosing to ignore the reference to that damned house John was instead silently cursing himself that as the boy's father he should have known about him being valedictorian.

Guilt ate at him again, recalling how he had purposely ignored the calls from the school on the answering machine, erasing them unheard. Why should he be troubled with anything when it came to Sam's final year at school he had told himself each time he erased a new message. After all it wasn't as if the book smart kid was going to flunk was it?

Now he could see that it had been him who had flunked out as a father, letting Sam feel let down time and time again. Now at seeing his oldest crumbling from the inside out at his failures John decide to take preventive action.

Admitting his mistakes to himself was one thing but to let Dean know of them was another thing entirely. From now on he had to make his oldest boy feel that Sam had up and run off out of his own selfish needs, make Dean judge that Sam had abandoned them, not the other way round. Somehow he had to put the blame firmly back on his youngest shoulders or he would lose both boys.

Sam was going to be Jennings responsibility from now on. He just had to make sure that Dean remained his.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam felt truly appalled as he watched the man scrub at the mess his stomach contents had made on the patterned floor covering. Misery hit him hard on waking again, his body ached and his head throbbed, while all the time his stomach clenched and unclenched in its need to expel nothing.

Trying to ignore the tug of needle through flesh as the woman worked silently and efficiently to close his scalp wound he'd tried to offer his apology at the nuisance he had caused, was causing, but was only shushed down each time.

When the last stitch was done Connie patted the arm of her way to compliant patient, more than a little bemused that he had tolerated her ministrations without the benefit of a local anaesthetic or a word of complaint. Something told her sadly that this was something not unknown to the boy and she wondered again just what had landed him at her feet again.

Clearing her throat she asked. "So can you tell me what happened. Who did this to you?"

Sam grinned weakly, not able to tell the truth, his years of being his father's son indelibly inked into him. "It was my own stupid fault ma'am. Goofing around and all."

"So no one did this to you? No one hit you with a car and left you?" demanded Connie with a desperate fierceness to her voice, the fact screaming in her head that this was exactly what had happened to her son still fresh in her mind.

As if reading her distress Sam propped himself on his elbows studying her face carefully before he spoke. "No Ma'am. No car. Just me being a major screw up like my dad always said I would be."

Connie nodded, felt the burden of responsibility starting to lift of her shoulders. "Let me call your dad son. He can come and get you."

Sam cut her off with feeble shake of his head followed by wan smile. "He wouldn't appreciate that. He thinks he's well shot of me and maybe he is. Never measured up. Not ever."

"Come on Sam it can't be as bad as you think. Give me his number, if I can just let him know what's happened," pleaded Connie anxious for the boy to get some family support.

Bowing his head, still fighting the pain of his concussion Sam answered honestly. "He told me go, told me never to come back. You can't ring him. It just wouldn't be right. Please."

"I bet he didn't mean it," countered Connie as being her parent herself she couldn't ever imaging cutting off child of hers from her life, only to flinch visibly at seeing the truth in the boy's all too expressive mournful eyes,

Sam had struggled to sit up and she pushed him back gently as he asked desperately. "Just give me a few hours and I'll be gone. A few hours that's all I ask."

Disturbed deeply at seeing the ingrained hurt on the boys face Connie shook her head and gripped his hand tightly. "Listen kid you'll spend the night here and more if necessary. And trust also that I'll be checking on you through the night. You took a nasty knock to your head so believe me young man when I tell you I wont be letting you out of my sights anytime soon."

His voice felt thick in his throat as he allowed her to push him back down on to the cushioned support of the couch his eyes unnaturally heavy again as he whispered. "Thank you. I'll pay you back. I promise."

Connie nodded and stood up as he fell back asleep and left the room before she crumbled totally. Crouching on the bottom step of the stairwell that led to the upper floor she felt her heart break all over again. Break for a kid that she had just met and was yet to fully know.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

"Jim, its John. John Winchester," came out a huskily familiar voice down the line.

Pastor Jim couldn't help but grin despite the hour and asked. "Hey Johnny, you and boys okay?" John Winchester never rang without a reason, most certainly not of the need for light chit-chat.

Cutting straight to the chase John admitted. "Yeah well I need you to find out from that bastard Jennings what's happening with Sam. I need to know he got him safely to California. Can you do that for me?"

There was a long pause at the end of the line as the preacher tried to make sense of the request. Finally John's lack of patience made him growl out. "Jim? You with me here man?"

"John, you do know that Aaron has been in England since the New Year? After Martha died just before Christmas he put on hiatus his post at Berkley."

John gasped and interjected quickly, "His wife died. Oh god, why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Well considering the relations between the two of you it was just thought best to let it rest. Sam knew though. He knew that Aaron had gone to Cambridge on a sabbatical. Encouraged him to make the break in fact."

"He never said anything," confessed John, fresh terror making itself known in his belly as he realised that his boy had headed off to California without any money in his pocket or with the expected umbrella of protection from this old friend.

His boy had struck off truly on his own and he had pushed him out the door without allowing him any chance to come back.

_**TBC**_

_**Hope this chapter wasn't too long winded. Poor Sam, poor Dean, poor John. Not one of them able to see just how deeply they are needed. **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**The disclaimers apply about owing nothing Supernatural – and again as before all mistakes are really very sadly all my own. Big mega thanks once more for such kind and positive reviews! **_

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 5 – Regrets**

Connie watched as Sam turned in his sleep and pulled the cover up back over him again. He had proved to be a restless sleeper managing to have kicked off the bedcovers whenever she had come in to check on him.

Once more she listened with an attentive ear and a worried frown to his soft muttering. The odd word here and there was recognisable and she slowly she was building up a troubled picture for the boy and she wondered what sort life he had led to leave him with such nightmares that terrorised his sleep.

She had initially baulked at her husband's suggestion that they put him in this room to rest up, this was after all Michaels' room, but now she was glad that they had as it was comforting to see all her son's possessions again pulling out sweet-bitter memories of happier times.

The football banners on the wall, the trophies still on top of the cabinet, the hideous KISS poster that she had threatened to tear down the first time it went up, all these things in their own way gave her something back of her son.

Sam though had no such comfort and turned again in his sleep and cried out softly. "Please, dad… Please." Another word, a long drawn cry of denial of 'No' followed, before abruptly he sat up to stare wildly about as if still caught up in a dream, his long arms and legs floundering in the twist of the covers as he tried to break free.

Connie sat quickly by his side and squeezed his arm gently before smoothing away his wet bangs that fell over his eyes with careful fingers, "Its okay Sam. Lie down and go back to sleep. You're safe here."

Taking in a long shuddering breath Sam turned to face her, the nightmare lifting and his eyelids batted slowly at her as if adjusting to her presence. The small scrapes on his face were healing fast but the bruises would take longer to fade but it was the boy's eyes that held Connie transfixed, the pain held inside to visible to ignore.

"Just a dream…" he whispered to himself and Connie nodded silently in agreement before pushing him back gently back onto the pillow, to watch him fall quickly back into the familiar restless pattern of sleep

"What's hurt you so deeply?" whispered Connie as she drew the cover back over him again, already afraid of the answers to come.

She had seen more than fresh bruises on the kids slim frame, older bruises and scars which were neither pretty to see or easy to explain away. His reluctance for them to call his father spoke volumes to her. Just what sort of life had he led to sport such wounds, old and new?

Realising that there was nothing more she could do right now to help him other than allow him to get some much needed rest she got up silently, pulled the comforter a little higher over his shoulders. Crawling back into her own bed she snuggled up to her dead to the world husband snoring like a freight train totally oblivious to her comings and going but still a solid rock of comfort to her as she leant into him.

Tomorrow she could try and find out the answers to those questions that kept digging into her thoughts and kept sleep at bay.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

"Will you just tell me what's happened? Just what has Aaron and California got to do with Samuel? You guys are still in Michigan, right?" demanded the Pastor from the ever evasive Winchester and it was starting to wear his normal patience pretty thin as he tried to wheedle the story out of him.

"I'll tell you what's it's got to do with Jennings. Sam got into college, bloody Stanford gave him a full ride," spat out John forcibly, his anger starting to ignite again as he remembered the fight he had shared with his youngest the night before.

"Oh my, a scholarship to Stanford. That's truly amazing…" confessed Jim his chest puffing out in pride for the youngest Winchester only for the feeling to disperse just as quickly when he heard John swear out a curse. "You don't share the same thoughts?"

"The hell I do. I told him he couldn't go but the boy took off after he decided that he didn't need his family anymore, that we're not good enough for him."

The venom behind John's words made the pastor flinch. "But college isn't for an age, what on earth possessed him to leave so early?"

"Because I told him to go," confessed John darkly. "I thought if I used the threat of losing his family, his brother, that he'd have to stay. But I guess more the fool me in thinking that he cared for us."

On hearing such damning words Jim Murphy wanted to reach down the phone line and strangle the man for pushing his son away like this. Instead he kept himself in check and dryly remarked. "So he called your bluff and you being the uptight bastard that you are just let him go. What happened John your pride take a tumble at the expense of your boy?"

He sucked in a breath at how Jim had managed to nail it on the head with just a few choice words. "Hell I'd thought he stay, at least for Dean. I was just angry at the way he snuck around behind my back, all the while with that bastard Jennings more than likely behind the scenes pulling his strings."

"Oh please, this has nothing to do with Aaron and you know it. Its about you and Sam, about how you've been pushing him away for a time now."

"You're speaking crap old man," growled back John hating at having his defences being torn down like this. "I've always done what I thought best for him. If I've been hard on him it's because he needs that extra bit of discipline. The boy's always been a dreamer wanting the impossible."

"Is it so unreasonable for Sam to want to go to college?" demanded Murphy all to aware how the kid had longed for his academics aspirations to be accepted by his family.

Snorting in disbelief at being asked such question John squashed any notion that he would eventually accept Sam's dream. "How is four more years of school going to keep him safe or help me track down the demon. How? Why couldn't he just be more like Dean? Just this once."

The Pastor felt a ripple of frustration go through him, but tried to remain calm knowing to well how quickly the man's temper could take hold of him and with it throwing all reasoning out of the window. "Hasn't that been your problem all along, thinking that you could turn him into Dean just because you wanted it."

"I wouldn't have had half the grief and trouble if he were more like his brother." barked back John, anger starting to rise again at the stance his friend was taking in defending the boy.

Struggling to put into words that might reach the guarded man Jim sighed wearily, "Look John your son got into a world class college on a full scholarship. Isn't there any part of you just a little bit proud of him for that? Couldn't you have just this once let the boy know he meant something more to you than a fallback for his brother?"

"Is that what you think, that all I see is a backup for Dean with the boy?" queried John in disbelief.

"Sometimes, yes I do," confessed Jim giving a long sigh before continuing, "You kept pushing him as if you wanted him to stop being who he was, give up on all the things that made him different. I tried to warn you so many times, but you always knew what was best didn't you?"

"Rub more salt into the wounds why don't you," countered John his voice dripping acid.

Ignoring his sarcasm Jim asked bluntly, "So how's Dean reacting to all of this? Must be hard on him seeing his brother just take off like that. I'm more than a little surprised he let it happen."

"Well he tried to find him but kid doesn't want to be found. He's left town and Dean hasn't a clue to where he is right now and its damn well near killing him. I just wish Sam could see just how much damage he's done by taking off like this."

Jim shook his head sadly equally concerned at what the brothers were going through right now. "I'm sure that your youngest is hurting just about the same. He's always idolised his brother, he'll miss him that's for sure. Perhaps when he's settled at Stanford Dean can spend time with him and things can get sorted out."

"Well that's not gonna happen," admitted John tiredly remembering all too well the stubborn determination in Sam's eyes as he dared to face the world without them. "I told the boy that if he left that he left his family for good, that there was no coming back for me or his brother. When he went he took me at my word."

The silence at the end of the phone was damning as the older man couldn't trust himself to speak coherently after hearing his friend's confession. The bastard really had pushed his son out of his life. Finally though he was compelled to ask, a terrible feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. "Just how is Sam getting to California?"

John snorted out loud at the question, "I have absolutely no idea. He took off with no money, no phone, nothing but a change of clothes and some books. How are some stupid books going to get him all the way to Palo Alto?"

Jim struggled and failed to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice or the bitterness he now felt. "Damn you John, you finally did it, letting your boy think that you really didn't want him anymore. Tell me just when did your need for hunting supersede your ability to love that boy?"

Jim could have sworn he heard a small inarticulate moan escape down the line and wished he was standing face to face with the man to see exactly where his heart was at right now. It was too easy for John Winchester to hide behind his various game faces at the best of times. Now he could understand how Aaron had come to blows with the man.

There was a long pause before John admitted hoarsely. "I may not have been able to tell him lately but I've always loved my boy. It's just got harder to show it, to damned hard to do anything but try and keep him under control."

"Yeah well it looks like you won't have to worry about that any more." came back the Pastor dryly as his fears for the youngest Winchester grew by the minute.

John swallowed dryly, "What's that supposed to mean? You think I planned any of this?"

It was rare for the Preacher to lose his temper but now it boiled out of him. "I don't care what you think, or what you say Winchester but I'm going to get the others to start looking for that boy, and if I find him I'll get him to California myself. You may have washed your hands of the boy but to me he will always be family."

He expected an angry tirade from the younger man but instead his own bubbling rage was instantly stilled as John brokenly admitted finally. "Do what you have to Jim, just keep him safe for me."

Instantly the Pastor understood the reason now behind the stubborn mule of a man calling him, that he was using him as his way of breaching the gap between him and his youngest.

Sighing his anger became regret as he wished dearly that he were nearer to the Winchesters right now, so that at least he could try and put a stop to the self-destruct mode going on in with this family. "Johnny I'll do what I can to find Sam, but if I do find him what do you want me to say to him? Do you really think that cutting him off like this is for the best? It's a dangerous place out there, especially for someone like your boy."

"I know how damn dangerous it is and so does Sam. Look I can't undo what's been done. The kid wants out Jim, nothing or no-one will bring back home now. So if you do find him just don't let him think himself totally alone. Please."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Creeping as silently as she could into the room all she had wanted to do was see how he was doing, not quite sure that he would be still there after what had happened to that ornery bull, no matter how many times daddy tried to persuade her that he wasn't going to shoot him.

Seeing was believing and standing up on tiptoes by his beds she could breathe easy again at seeing that her sleeping stranger was still there.

Unlike last night all the horrid blood smeared across his face was now gone and in the soft lit room she could see just how handsome he was. A small cut on chin and cheek though caught her attention and she frowned in concern wondering how to make him better again.

With a confident grin she leant in and attempted kiss his ouchies away just like mom always did. When he turned his head at the touch she couldn't stop a nervous gasp escaping and she waited with a baited breath to see if she had been silly enough to wake him.

When he only turned his face more fully into the pillow she let out a soft exhale, thankful that he was going back to sleep. His long hair had fallen over his face and timidly she tried to push it back behind his ear. "I think you're lovely," sighed Ronnie and watched him sleep for a few moments longer before getting restless.

The soft thud-thud of feet hitting the floor brought his fuggy mind slowly awake. As his eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the pale light streaming through the window he pulled into focus the small shape of a child dancing a few steps away from the bed.

Doing a small pirouette the little girl's arms were arched over her head, her tongue sticking out in concentration as she tried to master a full turn, attempted on half tippy toes despite the awkwardness of having furry slippers on her feet. Balance proved impossible and her thick flannelled form of teddy bear pyjamas fell to in a soft thud to the floor.

The short-legged kid was truly no ballerina in the making thought Sam as he watched her small inelegant frame fall to the floor in an ungainly heap unable to mask a small grin of amusement.

"Ow," Ronnie scowled to herself as she staggered back to her knees rubbing her backside at the abrupt landing. "Stupid carpet" she moaned to the flooring blaming it for her lack of finesse.

Sam couldn't help but offer up a soft snort at her reaction to her ungainly fall and instantly startled blue eyes locked with his.

"Hi," offered up Sam struggling to sit up, pushing his back against the headboard with a grimace as the small girl looked at him in alarm.

A nights rest had afforded just the right amount of healing to offset the cuts and bruising covering his slim frame. Unlike yesterday the world wasn't spinning violently anymore and he was just thankful to wake up in a warm bed with only a thumping headache and enough aches and twinges to remind him just how damned lucky he had been.

At his greeting Ronnie had clamped a hand over her mouth in surprise and her eyes darted a warning look at the door to see if she had been discovered. Mommy had told her to leave him alone and she would be so cross with her to find out that she had woken him. She jumped back on her feet with her finger pressed firmly against her lips to shush him further.

At seeing her heart struck look at his greeting Sam had guessed she was in the room without permission and he tried to make her feel at ease, whispering conspiratorially in return. "Hey its okay. You're Veronica, right? Thanks for helping me yesterday"

Sam watched fascinated as her face transformed from concern, fright to a wide mischievous smile in matter of seconds. "That's okay Sam"

"So can you tell me where am I?" asked Sam, still not sure how far into the train journey he had gone before finding himself forcibly evicted from Casper's train.

Ronnie gave him a small knowing half smile as she started her retreat from the room. "You're in Michael's room."

Sam watched her leave with a small frown as if it had to hold some importance. Just who was Michael?

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dave poured out his first coffee of the day and took a much needed savouring sip of the bitter brew. It was late for him, the clock already showing 6am and he watched silently as his children stared to fill the kitchen with way too much noise and energy.

Life on a farm was never dictated by body needs but by natures clock and he should have been out of the door an hour ago so he knew that he'd be playing catch up all morning.

Connie soon followed looking more than a little tired after watching over their young guest throughout the night and he gave her small acknowledging nod as she started to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"How is he?" asked Dave softly above the noise of his two children squabbling over who had the last of the Cheerio's.

"The boy seems good enough, bruises aside. Thank god it seems only to be a mild concussion, maybe we can now persuade him to ring his family, or even a friend, and let them come get him," answered Connie with a small shrug.

Dave leant in to kiss her gently on the cheek before his mouth travelled to her ear to whisper. "Love you honey."

Connie nodded with a shy smile on her lips and Dave quickly straightened up. The day was getting away from him and he knew that his wife would sort out the kids and their new houseguest. "Call me if you need anything. Okay?"

Greg watched the intimate interplay between his parents and barely held his anger in check. How dare they swap lovey-dovey moments with each other when they had left a stranger up stairs. He had gotten back from the football game late last night only to find out about the drama of his dad finding some beat-up stranger who had managed to soften his mother's heart enough for her to give up his brother's room to him.

Only the freaking devil himself could have made his mom do such an inexcusable thing. This new intruder had best be gone sooner rather than later or he might just have to add to his list of bruises if things kept up like this.

Seeing her son glowering over at them Connie walked over to him, letting the mug of coffee warm her hands before she gently cradled a palm against his cheek. "I know you don't like this Greg, but the boy was hurt and needed our help."

"But why did put him in that room?" asked Greg hotly pulling away from her touch. "You could have left him on the sofa."

Ronnie besides him sniggered at the thought, speaking through a frothy mix of cheerios of milk. "He's too big for that small sofa Greggy. My Sam would have been all squashed, would have been all squished if slept there, right mom?"

Connie raised a brow wondering just when her littlest had decided that Sam was her own personal property. "Eat your breakfast honey."

Humping at being sidelined Ronnie stuffed the remainder of the cereal into her mouth and hopped down from the table. She knew that look on her mom's face well enough to know that she wanted to speak to Greg alone.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Watching his oldest son throw his possessions lethargically into the back of the impala John held back a sigh. Dean he had decided needed something else to focus on other than his missing brother. That's why he was glad that Johnson has called to let him know of a new hunt in Detroit. Upping sticks and moving away from this small deadbeat town would be best thing he could do for his son right now.

After his talk with Jim he realised that getting Dean as far away, as quickly as possible, from any reminders of his brother was the only way to get him to move on and accept Sam's decision.

Still making him understand that his brother wasn't going to walk back through the front door ever again had been brutal in the telling. Every time he told his oldest that it had been Sam's choice to desert his family it felt like he was physically slapping his oldest to then watch the physical pain ripple across his face.

Still slowly bit by bit it had the desired affect and the need to chase after Sam had dampened down to a mute acceptance that his brother had deserted him.

John Winchester hated himself inside at forcing his oldest to accept his brother leaving as a slight against him, but sooner this than having them both gone. It would hurt to damn much to lose both his boys. One had been bad enough.

If he kept his own inner fears at bay he could convince himself that Sam had other eyes looking out for him now and that would have to suffice. No, his main priority was to keep Dean at his side to do what he had been trained for. And that was to hunt.

Now that they were moving onto a new job in Detroit they could start to get back to something called normal in the Winchester world of doing things. The new gig to all intents and purposes would be a simple enough cleansing, and hopefully that would get Dean back on track again away from thoughts of his errant little brother.

It was a strategy he was going to regret for both his sons later.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Greg Huffman chewing on a fingernail sat stewing on the wooden porch step. After breakfast and the talking to from his mother he had gone off to do his morning chores glad of the escape from the house for once. Especially from his bratty little sister who just wouldn't shut the hell up when it came to her new favourite thing in the whole wide world 'her Sam'.

The thoughts of sticking a Barbie doll down her throat was not beyond the realm of possibility if he heard her spout one more time about her special new friend. And if he couldn't run to one of her Barbie dolls then a strangling might just be in order.

Fighting back the salty sting of tears he knew that his little sister just didn't get it when it came to Michael, being only a toddler when he'd died. She didn't remember what an awesome older brother he was, the fun they used to have together or they way he could help sort any mess he found himself in with a just a few wise words and a big wide grin.

Ronnie couldn't remember just how wickedly funny he could be, or the way he could make him laugh so hard at times it hurt just to breathe. She really didn't know what it meant to miss Michael.

And god did he miss him. Sometime it was so hard to get up some mornings when he felt so empty inside. He played happy families with mom and dad and tried to pretend that everything was okay, and at time they could make believe, think that was all okay as long he didn't let his name slip out in conversation and watch his parents freeze into their own little worlds of silent grief.

There were days when he was on autopilot, days when he was certain they would hear him screaming inside so loudly that the world would have to stop, rewind and bring back his brother to him.

It was not fair, just not fair that some drunken bastard could point his car at his brother like a weapon and take him away in a second of insanity.

So no, two years wasn't long enough for him to forget his brother. A life time would never make him forget just how special Michael was. That kid up stairs using his brother's bed, taking up his mom's time would never be a patch on his brother. Not ever.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean followed after the beat up truck that his dad drove, the impala chugging out a familiar comforting noise that he had grown used to the last year when he raced behind him on the various hunts that seemed to have taken over his life this past year.

It was a year in which he had left Sam behind time and time again, never once realising the impact it would have on all their lives.

He knew his brother had been unhappy but had never realised just how much. Still the geek should have said something to him and he knew he should have damn well thought to ask. But then again he wasn't some freaky assessed psychic, how was he supposed to know that Sammy was planning to cut and run from his family like this?

All he could hope for now that the runt might ring him just to let him know that he was okay as the not knowing was killing him. Just one little phone call that was all he was praying for now.

His hands gripped the steering wheel so that his knuckles turned white as Kelly's words were spun back at him about Sam's birthday, cutting into him again. 'Not one stinking phone call'. Was this the sort of hurt, burning like acid from the inside out, that his brother had been feeling then?

Groaning out loud under the burden of responsibility he had always carried for his brother he whispered. "Hell Sammy why didn't you say something. Why didn't you just the once get angry, scream at me, just say something to let me know where I was going wrong. I would have tried to fix it little brother."

The rattling in the trunk was another reminder that Sam had really gone his own way. Usually the trunk would be crammed full, mostly with Sam's geeky need to take his books and stuff with him no matter where he went. Now it was half empty, just like he felt inside.

Alone with too many emotions swirling around in his head, filled with a mixture of denial, anger and utter frustration he tried to clamp them down, push them to the back of his mind. His solution was to turn on the music loud and thumping and Black Sabbath filled the air with a heavy pulse thrumming through the car.

As the music drowned his senses he could try and ignore the high-pitched warning in his head that there was no turning back for him, no turning back for his brother, as he followed after his dad's truck.

Not used to questioning his dad's decision this still felt wrong to be leaving town so quickly. Dad didn't want to stay, didn't want to wait and see if Sam might return to try and sort things out because he knew deep down that there was not a cat in hells chance of those two meeting middle ground right now.

So here he was tailing behind his dad down some dreary highway knowing that things couldn't get any more screwed up even if he tried.

One bright thought was that he had managed to see Kelly again and pass on his contact number on the off chance Sam would contact her. He knew he would never be her favourite person but he had left with the impression that she longer hated him. Now at least if Sam did ring she could tell them where they were heading. She could tell him to at least call him.

In his lap nestled his cell phone hoping for it to ring, hoping beyond hope that the stubborn fool of a little brother really didn't mean to cut him out of his life like this, no matter how much dad tried to convince him this was the case.

Was he really prepared to let his brother slip out of his life without a fight like his dad expected? The yammering of the music as he followed his dad gave him half an answer. He had already made his choice, to be the good son just as he had been taught to be and was staying with his father.

But that was only half the truth. No matter what dad said he was wrong when it came to Sam and him. His responsibility for his little brother just didn't end because dad said so.

"Damn it Sammy, just ring me. Please kiddo."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam toes dug into the carpet as he tried to keep his balance despite the giddy sensation that standing brought with it. Thankful the nausea of last night had abated, his stomach not threatening to upchuck again, but there was still a headache that thumped persistently at the back of his eyes. Just your regular mild concussion he told himself with a small shrug. Mild enough to hint that it was time perhaps to be on his way.

Holding onto the bedpost for support his eyes searched around the room taking onboard the football paraphernalia and the many gilded trophies with a raised brow of surprise. It was a jocks room through and through.

It was a world a way from the rooms he was used to waking up in. Like an unwelcome gatecrasher he looked guiltily around, taking in the cheesy photographs of boys in their full football gear and war paint and winced at being put into such an apple-pie environment.

It felt more than a little odd to be in room filled with such personal effects. Effects that he himself had never had never the chance to put a claim to during his long years of travelling with his family.

Shaking his head in regret he knew that his only shot at normal had been a few treasured books and a small box of memories that he had managed to tote round from the endless array of tatty hotel rooms and crummy homes he had found himself in over the years.

Then it hit him, in his rush to get away he had left the box behind, and he felt a tight band pain squeeze across his chest at the loss. Sentimentality was not one of his father's strong points and he could imagine all his stuff being chucked out in the trash. All his memories that he had kept treasured, all were now gone.

He didn't realise he had let out a sob till his breath hitched in his throat and the warmth of tears fell down his cheeks.

Suddenly he felt such a fool, crying over a few faded photos and knickknacks. This was not the way he had been raised. Dean would have had a field day at seeing such a girly moment and it hurt even more to think that his brother wasn't by his side to dig his elbow in his ribs to tell him what a first class idiot he was being.

Brushing the wetness hastily away he knew that this had been his choice to leave his family, but being told not to come back and now to finally realise there was nothing of his to go back for now just plain hurt.

That little box of mementoes had acted a like a life-raft for him at times. Whenever he got too down or lonely just rifling through them had been enough to lift the funk away to more manageable levels.

Tiredly he shook his head and winced at the pain it brought. Distracted he didn't hear Connie's disapproving suck of breath at catching sight of him standing on clearly wobbly legs.

She had been expecting her patient to be lying in the bed and she gave a small snort of surprise at seeing him upright. "You planning on making your great escape young man," she asked lightly with a warm easy smile on her face. "Let me at least check you over first?"

The smile quickly disappeared as he turned a startled face around to her. It was clear to her trained eye as both a mother and a nurse that he had been crying but just as quick whatever he might have been feeling disappeared from view as the barriers went up.

With an apologetic voice he had taken her soft rebuke as real, "No ma'am, I would have said my thanks for sure before I left."

"Well that's good to know Sam," answered Connie with a hint of worry to her voice as her eyes flickered over him to see how his various cuts and bruises were healing.

Feeling a little exposed in just his boxers under her critical stare Sam reached down for his holdall at the foot of the bed and started to drag out some clothes. Throwing her an apologetic shrug he pulled on a loose fitting pair of jeans, ignoring the stinging of breaking scabs on his knees whilst also trying to ignore how his hands shook when he reached down to pull a shirt out.

Connie set the breakfast tray down she had brought up for her guest on the dresser and plonked herself on the edge of the bed before patting it for Sam to sit down next to her face set brooking now argument.

Shrugging on his shirt Sam awkwardly did as he was bidden a little bit embarrassed to be under such scrutiny but nonetheless glad to be off his shaky legs. He really wasn't as ready for fleeing as he had first thought but he hated that here he was striving to be Mr Independent and had already he had been forced to accept the kindness of strangers. Even if it had been just for one night.

Connie could easily see what the effort to get himself dressed had taken out of the boy. "Look I don't know how you got into such a terrible mess yesterday, and its up to you to tell me what you want, but I'll be damned if I'll let some beat up skinny giant of a kid with a concussion walk out of my house without at least a decent breakfast inside him and strong enough legs to carry himself down the driveway. You hear me Sam?"

For the first time she was rewarded by a flash of deep dimples as he gave her small rueful nod of his head and she felt a flutter in her tummy wondering just how a kid as innocent looking as him carried so much damage both on the inside and out.

The dimples were just too plain adorable to not to want to her to hug him tightly, but she sat there holding herself back, reminding herself this was someone else's child. He was some other mother's boy to love and hold. Not hers.

Offering up an excuse Sam tried to push back a wave of dizziness, his eyes blinking lazily as he fought down the sensation of the world spinning giddily around him, "I um just don't think I should burden ya'll any further. I've been a nuisance enough. My head is fine now, Mrs…."

For a long moment he struggled to recall her name and his face pinked up at the embarrassment of being a houseguest in someone's home whilst not even knowing their name.

Patting his knee lightly she put him out of his discomfort with a soft laugh. "Its Connie Huffman and my husband is Dave. You met our five year old Ronnie yesterday and I'll introduce you to my fifteen year old Greg later."

"I really don't know how to say thank you Mrs Huffman," answered Sam honestly whilst fighting down the need to put his head back down on the pillow and let his eyes drift shut again.

"It's Connie, and you already did. Now lets see if you can manage some breakfast for me, okay?"

Outside of the bedroom door Greg felt sick to his stomach as he listened in. The voice in the room was a stranger, the soft twang definitely from out of state, and all he knew was that the body that the voice belonged to had no right to be in his brother's room. No right to be sitting on his brother's bed as if he owned it.

What was his mother playing at, making him stay like this when clearly he was readying to leave. A bang to the head or not did not give this guy the right to be anywhere near his brother's stuff, making his mother go all maternal over him.

It was a betrayal of Michael and he wasn't going to sit back and just watch it happen.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Ronnie sat in the barn waiting for her mom to call her back to get ready to go to school. She had dressed her favourite Barbie in a pink tutu imaging that's what she'd be wearing for the up coming school play. Despite being told that she was going to have play a stupid Sunflower.

She had already decided that she was going to be a best dancer in her year, despite what that horrible Mrs Ferguson said, no matter how many times she had likened her to be a stampeding herd of elephants when she did her grungy pliers (_grand plié_).

"Whatchya doing? Why are torturing that doll?" asked the figure besides her, playing teasingly with her red ponytail after watching with a bemused grin as the little girl put the plastic doll through some impossible moves.

He was rewarded as familiar blue eyes turned up to him. "I'm going to be ballerina - you know that Michael. I've been practicing really hard."

"If you say so little Sis. Last week you were going to be pig farmer remember?"

Throwing him a sideways look Ronnie stuck her tongue out at him. "I can be a ballerina and a pig farmer too silly."

"Yeah, yeah. So what else have you been up to squirt?"

"I made a new friend. He's really handsome and I think I'm gonna marry him when I'm older," whispered back Ronnie before she giggled by his side with a flush on her cheeks.

"A new friend?" asked the ghost with a frown, his shape starting to flicker in and out as he lost concentration, concerned at just who had dared steal his little sister's heart away so completely. He needed her to stay with him, let her see him, like no one else could. He didn't want to lose the only connection he had left to his family, his world.

Ronnie oblivious to his concern carried on with her confession. "Yep he's really dreamy, has the prettiest eyes. He's called Sam and mom let him stay in your room last night."

Michael Huffman eyes flashed black and the loose hay at Ronnie's feet lifted in a small whirlwind as he disappeared.

"Michael?" she called after him, used to him disappearing but never so quickly. Stuffing her doll into her school bag she decided it was time to head back to the house, perhaps she might even get to see her Sam again before she had to go to school.

_**TBC**_

_This was a slower chapter setting into place the prospect of more drama to follow. YEP - just getting you all ready for more whumpage to be played out for both Winchester boys! Any reviews of course warmly received!_


	6. Chapter 6

**_All usual disclaimer about owning nothing re Kripke's world of supernatural apply. _**

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**_AN: Sorry its taken me an age to get this posted but RL really was not playing fair this last week or two! Let me know what you think anyway if you can. . Rozzy _**

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**_Escaping Gravity _**

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**_Part 6 - Secrets_**

The sun was set high in the sky when Sam started to drift awake again feeling surprisingly cold and his body longed for the return of the comforter that he had kicked off earlier.

His lips twitched as he slowly gave up the dream, a whisper of a name escaping, before it struck him. A peculiar pain sharp like a spike of electricity tore up and out his body.

An involuntary yelp was forced from him and groaning into his pillow he bit down another agonised cry, shifting on to his side drawing his long legs up to curl into his stomach, fighting down a sudden need to crawl out of his skin as every sense he possessed stung in alarm.

For a moment panic washed over him as the strange sensation attacking his body mutated into an unnatural heaviness wrapping around him tightly. Unable to raise his head off the pillow there was the foreign sensation of something pressing on him, pushing the breath from his lungs, keeping him firmly pinned to the bed.

Struggling against the heaviness of his own limbs he battled to open his eyes determined to see what he faced. As soon as he snapped his eyes open the oppressive weight around him lifted and instantly he could breathe naturally and his once too heavy limbs were able to move freely again.

Wondering just what the hell had happened he sat quickly up, his eyes darted nervously round the room but found nothing. Running a shaky hand over his face he felt a little foolish, already putting the experience down to having one of his night terrors that had plagued him all his life. God knows they used to scare the crap out of him and Dean at times when he was younger. He was just glad he hadn't been screaming his head off at some imaginary monster to scare the Huffman's with.

His heart still yammering in his chest he took a long deep breath to let the air fill his lungs again willing himself to calm down. "Stupid idiot," he muttered to himself weakly, "Scaring the crap out of yourself like that."

Well beyond the need for sleep now Sam rolled off the bed to stand up with a long yawn and a slow stretch. He was glad that his legs were supporting him though he felt strangely weaker than earlier in the morning.

Muscles burned as he continued to stretch and the sting of cuts pulling against healing skin quickly reminded him that he was still paying the cost of yesterdays little adventure.

'Way to go Sam, breaking the Winchester family rule number one!' he mocked himself dourly fully aware as his body rebelled that he had left woefully unprepared for this hike across the country.

All his life it had been drilled into him that he should always to be prepared for the unexpected and yet the moment he got his first taste of freedom he allowed every single Winchester Spook list of rules to fly out of the window.

He couldn't ignore the facts, that an unofficial train ride, a ghost conductor and gravity had proven just how green he had been to think that he could ignore all the dangers out there.

'Yep, dad would have been so proud of you', he confessed sarcastically to himself with a sad shake of his head, 'One hundred percent not bloody prepared at all.'

Pushing aside the sour thoughts swirling around in his head he walked barefoot across the room to look in the dresser's mirror and cocked a grin of surprise at seeing his reflection, expecting worse damage than the small purpling bruises on his face and superficial cuts on his cheek and chin.

"Guess luck may finally be back on my side," he murmured out loud, absently fingering the back of his head mentally counting the stitches he encountered as he explored the healing cut. 'Hmm, just five, could have been worse.'

With his senses less scrambled Sam scanned the room and a wide grin spread across his face when he realised that at least he had managed to leave Michigan well and truly behind him. The Indiana State ribbon stuck above the door gave him his location. Now at least he could gain some satisfaction that his little train ride hadn't been a total disaster bringing him one step, one state nearer, to his goal.

Standing a little straighter he tried to think on what he really needed to do next. Getting some money together had to be his top priority especially if he wanted to get his sorry ass to California in one piece. Hitching train rides was definitely off the travel inventory from now on he told himself with a wry grin.

The only way he knew to get cash heavy fast was to hustle a few games of pool or worse. All the years of watching and playing with Dean was going to stand him good stead now he hoped. A few games here and there and maybe he could stretch to picking up enohgh ready cash for his own car.

Grinning happily at the idea he knew that having his own wheels was the perfection solution to his travel worries and then it would be adios Indiana and hello California. And screw Papa Winchester in the process.

Right about now a road trip across the States, at his own speed, sounded like fun. Beside it wasn't as if he was in a race to get to the other side of the country, especially with Aaron still in England till the Fall.

With his mind churning over the mechanics of getting what he needed in place he pulled back the curtain of the window to the outside world before blinking in surprise at the sight that greeted him.

His mouth dropping open with a silent 'Oh' realising for the first time that he really was in the middle of nowhere.

From his view point farm land stretched out on all sides, with only the break of trees in the distance to offer any relief to the rolling fields stretching out from the house.

Squinting a little harder he let out a small chuckle at noticing some cows grazing in a distant field. For a weird moment he truly felt like Dorothy in Oz seeing the Lion and the Tin-man for the first time, the notion of cows and tractors just too alien for him to contemplate as being real.

Dean's mouth would have been running off a stream of sarcastic witticisms right about now if he had been standing next to him and he sighed, already missing his brother too much to want to think about it. About him.

All thoughts of his brother and his proverbial sarky comments were forgotten as a tingle down his spine made him shiver and his eyes were drawn back to the to the imposing large wooden barn north of the house. Noticing for the first time a shadowed figure in the open door he frowned. Locking eyes with the figure he thought him oddly familiar before the world went a weird shade of grey.

**o0o0o0o0o **

The heavy throaty thrum thrum thrum of the impala was silenced abruptly as a desperately tired Dean Winchester drew to a stop outside the warehouse as he parked up behind his dad's truck.

Grimacing at the sight before him his eyes travelled over the disused building. Years of neglect and vandalism had left its mark on the exterior and he could only imagine what the insides must look like. A shit-hole truly in all but the name.

Was this really worth his time, he thought darkly, when really he should be looking for Sammy? Dad's obsessive need to kill every dark fuggly monster out there just didn't measure up when they both knew that Sam had fallen off the Winchester radar. And wasn't that just a scary thought to make your stomach growl awash with acid.

No matter what they managed to destroy in that stupid warehouse tonight would convince him that they were doing the right thing here. His little brother should be their first priority right now.

Not for the first time since leaving Michigan did he feel the need to scream out loud, "Screw the fucking hunt dad, lets go get Sammy back."

Testing his tongue against his teeth he could feel the festering sting of healing cuts from the times he had involuntarily bitten down to keep the screams inside.

All he knew now was that dad needed this hunt. But in the same breath he couldn't ignore the fact that it was just an excuse for him to runaway, to hide behind, in this great pretence that Sammy's leaving hadn't hurt him. Anyone with an once of vision could see it was killing him from the outside inwards. John Winchester was hurting, good and hard.

Still with soft mocking snort of derision Dean could see just how ironic it was that for the first time in an age his little brother had actually listened to their dad and did what he was told do. And that was to fucking leave.

Stupid beyond stupid. That's what the Winchester's were at times he admitted sadly to himself.

Bitterly he wondered just why hadn't Sam just have remained belligerently contrary and done the exact opposite of what dad had demanded?

Why couldn't he have just stayed and battled it out for another day and at least given him the chance to make it right for them all?

Smacking the palm of his hand against the steering wheel hard he let the anger roll out of him. "Damn you kid, just when did you get so freaking pigheaded? When did you learn not to speak to me?"

All he knew since finding out things from Kelly was that his little brother had clammed up so tight this past year that he had made himself virtually invisible to him. Worst though like a continuous nagging hurt was the fact that he hadn't even noticed.

It cut deep to hear some dull geeky blonde chick tearing a strip of him to tell him just how bad he had let things get so screwed up - if not failed his little brother

Now he found himself two days later without a damn word from the idiot kid. Two freaking frustrating days later in which he didn't know where he was or what the hell was happening. Two days when he was truly tearing himself apart with self-recrimination and worry.

For the last time that night he picked up his phone and checked yet once more to make sure he hadn't missed a call or a message. The screen was empty and he knew that his brother was still running in silent mode.

The silence was scaring the shit out of him and he could admit it to himself now. The very real possibility that his geeky brother was intending to permanently excise himself from his from his family was becoming a more frightening possibility.

Sam was just enough of a stubborn little geek to do exactly what dad had told him do – and that was to stay gone. And all because of some stupid pipedream of some fancy college.

Bitterly he thought that Jennings sure had a hell of a lot to answer for in trying to steal his brother away like this. Made especially worse to bear when the bastard was refusing to return any the voicemail messages he had left on his damn phone.

If dad didn't sock the professor one when next they met up he sure as hell would for putting him through the wringer like this.

All he wanted was one poxy phone call. Surely the professor could run to that? Why couldn't he just give him just a few seconds to let him know his brother was safe and sound? He knew that Sam had always been the man's favourite but he never thought him to be a deliberately spiteful man, but the way he was being ignored now just stung so deep.

The silence also gave him enough time to build up a whole world of doubt. Letting the small warning light in his head to blink away telling him that this was so out of character for Jennings that maybe Sam really wasn't with him. Maybe his brother was as far away from California than he was ever willing want to think about.

Just daring to think on the possibility that his brother was well and truly missing brought a gurgle of acid to swirl in his stomach before making its way up to his throat in a retrosternal burn and he was forced to swallow back hard the bile. The idea that his geeky little brother was out there alone somewhere and not yet safe with Aaron really didn't bear thinking on.

Now it was impossible to dismiss the growing unease gnawing away at his senses since leaving Michigan. The dreadful feeling that already that his little brother may have done something inherently stupid sunk deep into to guts. And all he wanted to do was puke up and scream a denial.

For their part people who knew his brother saw a book smart kid, but what most didn't understand, didn't see, was that he could be as equally stunningly naïve at times. It meant that letting Sam run off to do normal was just a recipe for disaster in the making. Plain and simple.

Dean struck the steering wheel viciously again, "Damn it when I get hold of you I'm going to have seriously smack some commonsense into your thick head little brother,"

Chewing on an antacid he left the car and walked over to were his dad waited trying to match his game face with his own.

He'd do this job with him and then no matter what dad wanted or said next he was going to go get back his brother. And when he did he was going to kick his scrawny ass royally for scaring him like this.

**o0o0o0o0o **

Sam forehead felt the refreshing ice cold touch of the glass against his forehead and guessed that somehow he must have zoned out for a while there. Propped up against the window with fingers splayed out hard in support he tried to steady himself feeling suddenly worryingly weak.

Struggling to stand tall it was if all the warmth in his body was being leeched away till he was left shivering despite the bright afternoon sunshine that poured through the window. Then just like before, as quickly as it had begun, the chill lifted and he could feel the blood warm in his veins again.

Puzzled he tried to understand what he had just experienced but couldn't think of any reasonable answer other than the smack to the back of his skull must have been one hell of a doozy. He really must have concussion central doing a number inside his head right now. What else could explain these spaced out episodes he was experiencing?

Pushing deliberately the strange feelings niggling at him to the back of his mind he pulled his thoughts back from the surreal back to real life again. Cows and tractors be damned he really did need to get things back under control as this whole weak Winchester 'routine' he had going was getting old very fast.

Staggering back to his bed he grabbed up his holdall and checked inside to make sure that nothing important had been lost or damaged. His whole world was carried in that small holdall and he couldn't afford to screw things up any further than he already had.

With a grim nod he found his gun and knives still intact and could only presume that the Huffman's had not thought to search his belongings. Not many people would take too kindly at the sort of weapons he was carrying, even if they were meant as protection against the inhuman rather than the human. It was with quick trembling hands that he quickly wrapped his little arsenal in a shirt before stuffing it to the bottom of the bag not wanting to tempt discovery.

His hands still trembling he pulled out his acceptance letter from Stanford and read it again and felt a wave of self-doubt wash over him. For this small piece of paper he was willing to give up so much.

Even now the thought of not being able to speak or see his brother again still didn't seem real. God knows he could understand why Dean didn't want to deal with him right now, his angry stare and silence saying it all when he left, but did he really mean to cut him out of his life forever?

Is this what this paper really meant, the complete severing of his link to the only one good thing that had been in his life, his big brother?

Chewing his bottom lip he looked at the words on the page and knew this was his future but he felt so goddam hollow inside for it. Deep down there was this aching need inside of him to let Dean know that no matter what their dad might think that he was not walking away from being a brother, just from that of being thought a second rate son.

'This is so unfair,' he wanted to scream out loud, never really having the chance to tell his brother any of this before he left, "I really don't want to lose you brother. Not for this, not just because dad said so."

Silently he bowed his head, aware that the mighty John Winchester never said anything he didn't mean so even if he wanted to there was no going back. Savagely he pushed the letter back into the holdall before he blinked back the hot sting of tears, telling himself brutally that the time for regrets was well and truly behind him,

Simply put there was no chance of him ever going back and the only way truly for him to go now was forwards. Because with his dad's words last words to him so clear and frighteningly final it would be foolish to do anything but stay gone.

**o0o0o0o0o **

Ronnie had hated being at school today as it had proved itself to be annoyingly long, keeping her away from the boy in her brother's room with the pretty eyes and golden glow. Now all she wanted was for her slowcoach father to drive just a little bit faster to get her back home.

Unable to contain her excitement the act of keeping still had deserted her. She squirmed impatiently in her car seat and Dave eyed her through the rear-view mirror and he couldn't keep back a dry chuckle. "Hey Veronica you been sitting where you shouldn't again?"

Puckering her forehead in a confused frown Ronnie shook her head. "What ya mean daddy? I sat with Donny and Sandy all day in class!"

"Well if you keep jiggling around like that all I can think is that you must have ants in your pants again," answered Dave fondly, recalling how his youngest had managed to sit on top of an anthill last summer and the commotion that followed.

Rewarded by a giggle he watched his daughter with a smile as she confessed. "I can't keep still daddy cos I'm want to see Sam again. Mommy will make him stay wont she? I don't think his head is all better yet."

It was good to see his youngest so happy, but for the life of him he just couldn't understand this sudden hero worship that she had developed for a total stranger. God knows Connie wasn't readying to chuck the kid out yet, but it would only be a day or two at most before he was well enough to be on his way.

How could he make his littlest understand that the boy would not be staying for long, that there might even be family waiting desperately to reclaim him. Connie though wasn't convinced that was going to happen and when it came to his wife's instincts he had learnt to trust them above his own. So far the kid hadn't managed to tell them much but he knew his wife well enough to know that she was worried for him being so alone.

The fact that he found him in such a mess yesterday still didn't make a lick of sense. How on earth had he got into such a state, to be left in lying in a field all shook up and bloodied, all the whiles denying any hit or run or anyone else being involved. If he didn't know better the kid he would swear that the boy fallen out of the sky to hit the earth with an almighty thump.

His mind was brought back to the present as Ronnie confessed sadly, "Daddy, I don't think Greg likes my Sam. Do you think Michael will?"

Dave sighed sadly and shook his head at his daughter all too familiar with the way she managed to weave her dead brother into the conversation at the oddest of times. Swallowing hard he struggled to keep his voice steady, "Greg will come round honey. The boy seems nice enough. As for Michael you know he's with the angels baby. He won't mind Sam staying one bit."

Ronnie looked at him with a small half smile keeping her silence. Michael had told her that was what he was now. Her big secret. And really she shouldn't talk about him with the others. Her eyes glazed over as her thoughts took her off to another place in her head wondering how to get her Michael to see Sam.

Frowning Dave could see her spacing out in the back seat and fought to get her attention back, "Listen honey please don't mention any of this to mom okay? She has enough to deal with Sam and everything. And you know it makes her little sad when you talk about Michael like that. Keep it quiet okay Ronnie."

"That's okay daddy I wont' say anything about 'you know who'." declared Ronnie dramatically drawing her small finger over her lips mimicking zipping her mouth up. She smiled at him knowingly, not adding that Michael had told him to keep him a secret anyways.

Her focus returning back to Sam and she asked. "If Sam is better daddy can I play with him? I can show him all my new toys."

Dave stifled back a snort of laughter trying to imagine the tall boy playing Barbie dress up with his youngest. "Ronnie you know that he's all grown up. I don't think he'll be up to playing with you. Anyways he'll be on his way soon enough, and if…"

Ronnie shook her head and interrupted him decidedly, "He could stay you know. Maybe he could help you with those stupid chores that never get done. Then Sam could stay. Right?"

Her face had that determined look that Dave had learnt to dread, and he answered as honestly as he could as they turned into the long driveway that led to the house. "No baby. He's not like some stray dog that you get to keep honey."

He saw her pout, her eyes darkening at not liking at what she heard, but he didn't get a chance to say anything further to his little girl for the moment he drew up outside the house she had left the car at breakneck speed and dashed into the house.

"Mommy!" hollered Ronnie racing into the kitchen only to pull up abruptly at seeing Sam standing by the kitchen table. Her eyes large travelled upwards, taking in the way too long legs and slim frame till she reached his face and saw the easy welcoming smile

"Hi. Its good to see you again," remarked Sam softly, a little bemused to be under such intense scrutiny as she continued to stare dreamy eyed up at him.

Her tummy tingled at the sound of his voice and large beam burst across her face. Her eyes drunk in the glow around him and it kept her grinning inanely. Finally managing to take in all of his long lanky frame she squeaked out, "Sam. You're so tall!"

Sam bent down to her eye level and whispered teasingly, with a flash of dimples, "Its not about me being tall its just about you being short."

As the words escaped his mouth he could remember saying that exact same thing to his brother only a while back.

Dean for all his big brother superiority had been left bitching venomously on how it broke all the laws of nature to have a little brother taller than him, and he had revelled in the ability to torture him back in return.

Now for the first time, like a physical kick to the gut, he realised that he wouldn't be able to joke with his brother about something like that ever again. Not if their dad's word meant anything.

All the colour drained rapidly from his face, absorbing the loss akin to a physical punch to the guts, and the energy that gotten him down the stairs suddenly deserted him so that his legs trembled under his weight.

Connie Huffman immediately caught on to how her young patient's complexion went a waxy white on bending down to speak to her youngest and was spurred into action quickly, fearing he was about to topple over. Grabbing his elbow tightly she expertly steered him into a chair noting the thin line of sweat on his top lip.

Tutting she shook her head, "Like I said before a concussion is nothing to fool around with. You still have to take things slowly young man. I still think a trip to the hospital may be in order to get you checked out properly"

"No", whispered Sam hurriedly. "No hospital. Please. I'll be fine. Honest."

"Mom is he going to be okay?" whispered Ronnie by her side, looking more than a little alarmed that in just a matter of seconds Sam had gone from looking well to going an unnatural shade of grey.

Connie glanced down at her daughter to allay her worries but Sam beat her to it. "Sorry Ronnie, I'm just a little off kilter still. Really just give me a moment and I'll be fine."

"Well I'll be the judge of that Sam. Now you stay seated and lets just see if I can get something nourishing into you since you cried off breakfast. I knew I shouldn't have let you sweet talk me into letting you come down stairs so soon."

Connie was still amazed that the boy had managed to bring her guard down so easily with just a few soft words and a flash of dimples and she couldn't help but wonder at just how many times he had let his looks get him what he wanted.

Glancing an apology up at the woman Sam felt such a fraud, eliciting their concerns because of his foolish mistakes. "Really Mrs Huffman, there's really no need to put yourself to so much trouble. I think its all good now, I can be on my way..."

"Please mommy don't let him go," cried out Ronnie, tugging at her wrist anxiously. "He's still all wibbly-wobbly."

"Well it looks like you have your answer Sam. Until you no longer resemble jello it seems like you're going to have spend another night under my roof," answered Connie firmly not falling for the soulful look in his eyes this time round.

Visibly reassured Ronnie by her mother's no-nonsense tone she let out a deep breath of relief. Her Sam would have to spend another night and her plan still might work with her brothers.

Reaching across she patted his hand gently and trying her best to sound like her mother she offered up, "We'll make you all better Sam. Unlike stupid old Harold. You just wait and see."

**o0o0o0o0o **

Michael paced inside the barn wondering how the stranger had left him feeling so weakened, still trying to decide exactly what had played itself out earlier in _his_ room.

A rage had built inside him ever since Ronnie had spoken with him earlier that morning. It was a temper that grew till all he knew was that wanted the interloper out of his house.

Damn the kid to hell, he really had no right to be with his family taking over _his_ life like this. If he couldn't have his mother's touch any more then this kid certainly didn't deserve it. Ronnie was a fool easily led and it was his job as her big brother to protect her from herself at times.

When he forced his land locked form back into his room and caught sight of the sleeping boy sprawled out on _his_ bed the rage that had been building had spilled out in an unseen wave. All he knew as he hovered momentarily over the form was that he seriously wanted to hurt the kid.

It was with the first touch of his fingers on the slumbering boy that the world exploded into a variety of colours that dead eyes weren't meant to see.

In an instance his dead limbs became energised and his heart seemed to stutter alive to beat fresh in his withered chest. For a few seconds he was pulling the most amazing energy from the stranger, siphoning off a force so intense that it cackled like an electric current as it raced from the boy into him.

And damn the world to hell if he didn't want more of the same, because if had felt so freaking good, so fantastically real, that for a brief moment he could believe himself alive once more.

Then the transformation abruptly ceased as the touch was broken and he felt himself scream a silent 'No' as the force that made him feel alive dissipated and he found himself once again in the grey world of limbo. All still very much dead.

Howling silently as his ability to keep a grip on the boy was torn away he could feel his form being lifted upwards.

Next he was flying backwards physically pitched out of _his_ room, _his_ house itself at such an unnatural speed the world lost all shape and colour for a time.

Michael found himself next in the barn, back to the anchor that kept him in this world and as his spirit reformed he was left with a terrible thirst

With dark desolate eyes he looked up at his bedroom window desperate to touch the kid once again for another fix of real but at the same time was terrified of his touch in return. The kid was so strong, so freaking bright, that it was hard to look at him and not be afraid.

As he scowled up at the window he saw the curtain being lifted and the boy stared out. Daring to try and meet his gaze Michael stared up at him and then blinked hard, astonished that he in return seemed to be staring directly back down at him. Was it really possible that he could see him, just like his little sister Ronnie could?

"Who the hell are you?" he had demanded angrily and was rewarded with a response as the boy seemed to waiver, his head pressing against the window as if he was about to fall down.

Watching the kid his mind somersaulted with fear. All he knew was that this strange kid had to be a threat, not just to him but also to his little sister who was too young to realise the danger he brought with him.

Now he could understand why she had been so excited at his presence, because if she saw half as much as he gave out it would explain her attraction to him. His own personal bundle of psychic energy called Ronnie would see him all lit up like a thousand watt light bulb. And that was not a good thing at all.

Hissing out loud Michael slunk back into the shadows, fear taking hold of his tortured mind again. Ronnie was too little to understand the darkness out there, so it was his job to protect her. It was all he had left. To protect those that he loved.

The spirit that made up Michael Huffman had lost too much on dying. His need for vengeance at his unnatural death now only made him see targets, for things to blame for is now miserable existence. Sam Winchester was now one of them.

**o0o0o0o0o **

Dave whistled softly, "California? You've got to be kidding me. Just how is he planning on getting there?"

Connie sat herself down and rested her chin on his shoulder as she tiredly confessed. "He won't say, just that's where he's heading. He's got a full ride to Stanford waiting for him there."

"Wow, the lad must be smart as hell. A full ride! Still he should call home, you know his dad should be told. I sure would be as mad as hell if something happened to one of my kids and nobody told me about it."

"Dave he's a grown boy. You can't force him to get in touch with his family. I managed to wheedle it out of him that his dad didn't want him going to college and he told him it was his way or the highway. And that if he did leave he was to stay gone too."

"That's harsh Connie. Pushing the boy out of the door like that."

"Yep and if I'm a judge of character that boy has a prideful streak running through him so wide that he will walk all the way to California if that's what it takes."

Dave took his wife hand in his and squeezed it gently. "It doesn't seem right honey, his dad being mad at him for getting into college like that. If it was Greg…."

Connie smiled weakly remembering how excited they had both been when Michael got a place at Purdue and knew that's where her husband's thoughts were at right now.

Screwing up her nose to keep the tears at bay she squeezed back his hand in return. "Who knows what goes on in other peoples lives baby. Right or wrong that boy is on his own now and he's dealing it with it the best way he knows how to."

"Damn it though, he's been hurt and it just been left to strangers to look after him," snorted Dave scornfully. "No kid deserves to be treated like that. I've a good mind to get his dad's number off him and give him a piece of my mind. Or may be even try and talk some sense into the idiot."

"Please Dave don't push him. I've got this feeling he's ready to bolt and he really does need to stay another night or two. I don't care how convincing he sounds but that boy's got a first class concussion going on."

"Its really can't be that bad honey – the boy seems well enough tonight", responded Dave quickly not wanting the conversation to go where it went next.

Tiredly she was forced to admit, "I should have taken him to town and gotten a scan done last night. Playing guess the outcome with head injuries is stupid at the best of times. I really should have at least Dr Malhas look at him."

"St Edwards isn't doling out scans or doctors consults for free honey. I've barely got enough coming in this month to pay the cattle feed. I can't spring for a hospital bill too. You'd have to drive him all the way over to Somerton. Its just not doable."

Hearing his wife deep resigned sigh he added, "Look Con the kid looks better and as you say another day or two he should all be back to normal. He'll be fine, trust me. And if Ronnie has anything to do with it he's more than likely to be smothered to death by girly adoration and Barbie dolls than a little bang to the head."

Connie laughed softly already aware that Sam had grown an extra shadow with her youngest. "Oh god, yes you're right. That poor boy!"

**o0o0o0o0o **

Fumbling for his phone John felt down at his boy's throat anxiously for a pulse and was rewarded with a thready return. Still very much alive just more broken than ever. Assessing the damage in the dusky dim light John cursed himself for forcing this stupid hunt on his son.

It didn't take a genius to see that Dean wasn't coping with his brother going Awol on him and now bitterly he realised too late his mistake. He really should have held off for another day or two to let Dean adjust to the gap in their lives first that made up Sammy. Maybe then his mind would have been on the hunt rather than being stuck on his missing brother.

Sam's leaving wasn't meant to do this sort of damage. Not to his boy. He should be the one left beaten and broken for his mistakes, not his lad, not his oldest.

Taking a steadying breath he dialled with trembling fingers and he groaned with frank relief when the operator picked up straight away. Quickly he outlined his need, "Yes. I need the emergency services. My son's been hurt. I don't want to move him as he has some crush injuries. Yes. A wall collapsed. No he's unconscious. Yes he's breathing on his own. Yeah I'm on the corner of 12th Street. In the old Morrison warehouse. Hurry. Please."

When the line went dead he sat down by his son's side and brushed his fingers through his hair, dislodging the cake of cement dust and fine brick that had worked its way to his scalp. He was thankful that his son remained oblivious to his touch because the pain on waking would be something fierce as he noted the odd angles the breaks of bone had made up his left leg. "I'm sorry son. I've fucked up big time here. This is all my mistake."

Perhaps Dean had heard his confession and he stirred in his arms before a deep hiss of pain was forced out through clenched teeth as he body told him of the damage he had sustained.

John cringed as bruised eyes stared up only to flinch as he heard him boy call longingly out, "Sammy?"

Shaking his head and fighting back the urge to give into tears he whispered. "No boy, it just me, its me dad. You'll be okay. I promise."

Eyes dull with pain he drifted away and he whispered again before the pain took him back to the grace of welcome unconsciousness. "Sammy"

**o0o0o0o0o **

****

**_TBC_**

**_Okay – long chapter I know but the pesky little bugger just wouldn't stop writing itself! Give me your pennies-worth if you can - as I always love feedback. More brotherly battering and angst to come in the next chapter. Roz. _**


	7. Chapter 7

_**All usual disclaimer about owning nothing re Kripke's world of supernatural apply. **_

_**Again let me just say a warm thanks for all those really supportive reviews – they really do help me write just that little bit faster. Rozzy.**_

**Escaping Gravity**

**Part 7 - Letting go bit by bit**

John Winchester waited and hated every damn second that ticked by. Not a patient man at the best of time he sat grim faced in the drab reception area looking at the door to the examining room his son had been rushed into and fought down the instinct to grab back control and force his way into the room. The not knowing was killing him.

Dean's left leg was a mess, the blood and twisted shape under the denim telling him that this was not something that he could have fixed himself. As much as he hated hospitals and as much as he hated giving up control he knew this was the place for his boy right now. They'd fix the breaks, make him whole again, and then they could get back to what they did best, hunting.

When a young doctor in scrubs came out of the room and called out the name of Robinson he stood up quickly, his face hardening as he caught the younger man's eyes. He asked in a deep growl, "How's my son. What's happening?"

Dr Yones raised an eyebrow in surprise at the man's gruff demeanour and find himself unable to match the man's fierce stare and quickly looked back at his clipboard. "Well your son, Dean, has sustained two compound fractures to his left leg and an open fracture to his tibia. We're prepping him for surgery as we speak."

"So the breaks are bad then? But he'll be able to go home soon, right. Once you've reset the bones. Yes?"

Dr Yones shook his head. "Look the orthopaedic surgeon will come out and talk you afterwards but I can say that your son is going to need to stay in hospital for at least a month, if not longer."

"A month - what the hell! Why so long?" demanded John somewhat unconvinced by the young doctors ability to give him an accurate diagnosis. All he knew was that he couldn't afford a month waiting in Detroit for Dean to heal up. They'd both go plumb crazy sitting on their asses doing nothing for a whole month or more.

"I'm sorry Mr Robinson even after this initial surgery he's going to be under the Orthopaedic team for some time. I'm pretty certain that he's going to have at least two of the breaks pinned and will need traction to get them to heal sufficiently for him to be able to use that leg again. It's not going to fix itself overnight. A month may even be an under estimation sir. It could be even longer. I'm afraid he's in here for the long haul, sir."

"Damn it to hell," cursed John harshly under his breath and the doctor took an involuntary step backwards. "This was not supposed to happen, not like this. I thought he'd be okay."

Realising he had said his thoughts out loud he looked bleakly at the young doctor before he rubbed a tired hand over his face and his voice softened. "Can I see him before you take him to surgery?"

"Sure, but he's going to be a little out of it sir. We've given him something to take away the edge of the pain."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dave watched as his wife fussed over the boy and chuckled to himself on noting how no matter how he tried to persuade her that he was fine she wasn't fooled. Although pale his cheeks were a little flushed and Connie had insisted on taking his temperature, the nurse in her taking charge once more.

On reading the slightly elevated temperature she popped the thermometer back in her front pocket and eyed the boy with a small frown of concern. "I want you back in bed, and this time keep the covers on. It looks like you've developed a bit of a chill. Get some rest and I'll bring you some supper later."

Shaking his head Sam tried to get his own way, the thought of having to sleep the entire day way not appealing to him at all. Despite the scratchy feeling of the back of the throat he refused to let on just how incredibly tired he felt again, fighting with all his will to stay in some sort of control. "Really its just a chill like you say Mrs Huffman, if you just give me a couple of Advil I'll be fine."

"Yeah well you look whiter than a ghost. So cold or not it up to bed with you Sam." She nodded over to her husband and he took that as his hint to offer up an arm of support to the boy.

"Come on lad its no use arguing with her when she gives you the 'look'. I've been married to the woman for twenty odd years and I've never managed to win one of our little head to heads when she fixes you with one her stares."

Dave laughed as his wife poked her tongue out at him and he snaked down an arm to pull Sam up off the couch. As the boy swayed slightly on his feet he knew that his wife's diagnosis was right, the flush to his cheeks was deepening and his eyes were unnaturally bright. The boy was definitely coming down with something. Maybe Ronnie would get her way after all and Sam would have to stay a little longer.

As he walked him up the stairs he had to ask. "So Sam are you sure that there's no one I can ring? There's got to be someone. Family? A friend?"

Kelly's face popped into his head but Sam didn't want to call her just yet. Best to be fighting fit before he tried contacting any of his buddies back in Michigan. The thought of having to deal with their one hundred and one question on why he took off like that was something he just couldn't face right now.

Bitterly he knew that the one person he really wanted to ring wouldn't take his call. Dean was going to be mad at him for a long time he guessed and it would be too soon to try and bridge the gap between them. Hell it might take months if not longer to get Dean to talk to him, if ever, and he didn't have the energy to get into a fight with his brother. Not today at least.

Shaking his head Sam swallowed hard, his voice hoarse as the soreness increased, "No Sir, I, um, well maybe another time."

Nodding his head Dave didn't try to push further his wife's warning still in his head and simply added. "Right. Just keep it in mind son. You can use the phone anytime."

As Dave guided him back to bed Sam swallowed dryly again, his throat feeling more and more painful. "Listen Mr Huffman, I don't mean to put you and your family out like this. I can be on my way tomorrow or I can help try pay you back with some free labour."

"Not if my wife has anything to say about it son. Look just try and get some rest. Connie will be up to check on you soon enough."

"Okay Mr Huffman. Just tell your son Michael thanks for giving up his room like this. I'll make it up to him. I promise," pleaded Sam wearily as he leant back into the bed kicking off his shoes.

Dave stilled on hearing the boy's thanks and he turned away swallowing back the bitter bile racing up his throat. Eyes dared to look at the pictures on the dresser, the happy smiling face of his strapping son readying to leave home and go to college. Readying to lead his own life and do so much promised good. And fuck it hurt almost too much to breathe.

Feeling his heart miss more than a beat as fresh grief tore through him Dave wiped away a single tear that had managed to steal its way down his cheek. God he missed his oldest boy so much that it just didn't seem possible at times that he was gone. He couldn't say this to his wife knowing just how fragile she was with her own grief, but damn the pain was non-ending and to hear this stranger talk of his boy as if he was still alive just added to the hurt.

Sam as confused as he was didn't miss seeing the emotions wash over the man and he asked with a scratchy voice. "This is Michael's room right? Ronnie said it was. I saw him earlier by the barn and I thought…."

"No son. That wasn't Michael," countered Dave quickly desperate to bring this conversation to an end, his grief too close to the surface to not spill out if the boy continued to ask questions he didn't want to answer. "Believe me Mikey is not gonna mind you using his room."

Raising an eyebrow in surprise Sam tried to remember what he had seen earlier that day. "Sorry sir I just thought….." He sucked in a tired breath and tried to shake the cobwebs away fogging his thoughts, "Just say thanks for me. Okay?"

Dave took in the boy's earnest expression and the grief for Michael was put to one side, pocketed in place that he would go back to later, but right now the kid before was looking at him with such confusion on his flushed face that he blurted out, "Look its best you just rest up before Connie goes ballistic on your sick behind. She doesn't like her patients playing up on her."

Smirking dimples at the man Sam nodded, already feeling the weight of a fever wanting to drag him back down to sleep. "Okay Mr Huffman. Don't wanna get the 'look' if I can possibly help it."

"That's right kid, you need to rest. Maybe in the morning everything will be just a little clearer."

Knowing when to give up the battle of wills Sam sunk his head back on the pillow his eyes already closing as the door shut behind Dave. He really wasn't feeling so good any more, may be Connie was right and a few hours of sleep is what he needed.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Ronnie skipped her way over to the barn swinging her half scalped doll by its hair in one meaty fist whilst holding firmly on to a half eaten doughnut in the other. Her potential new playmate was back in Michael's room again sleeping and no matter how many times she had half coughed her presence by his bed or poked him surreptitiously with finger he had remained determinedly asleep. Mom had soon come in and caught her out and had shooed her away with a few cross words and she had enough sense to act guilty.

She thought it funny the way her mom could be so bossy at times. Sam really didn't want to go lie down again but mom just wouldn't listen and made him go back to bed. If he had stayed up he could have played with her, or even come to the barn to meet her brother. Just because Greg was being mean about him didn't mean Michael would be.

It annoyed her that no matter what she had planned today things just weren't going her way. Sam was supposed to be getting better so that she could show him off to Michael. Sighing she knew it would have to be enough to fill her oldest brother on all the news about their latest houseguest. The barn was bathed in later afternoon sunshine, streaming in through the wide open doors.

"Michael?" she whispered eyes darting furtively around the barn to make sure that she was alone. When there was no immediate reply she called again louder through a mouthful of half eaten dough, "Mikey it me Ronnie…."

A voice behind her made her jump in surprise, "Why do you keep calling for him like that?"

Her mouth dropped open and she spun round to see Greg glaring down at her. Immediately defensive she shook her head. "You don't know…"

"Yeah well I know that you're driving us all crazy. It's been two freaking years and you're still carrying on with this game. Michael's dead little sis and nothing will ever bring him back. So can the whole I can see dead people crap. Its not cute anymore."

Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head again her breath hitching in her throat, "You're just mad because he's my secret. That's why you're so horrible. I think your mean."

Greg's fell back a step a little surprised by the vehemence behind her words and felt a twinge of guilt at seeing her so upset. He bent down to his little sister and sighed, "It's okay to miss him Ronnie. But its hurts mom and dad when you do this stuff. It just hurts, okay?"

She didn't say anything her mouth clamping shut at looking over his shoulder. There shaking his head at her was Michael, flickering in the shadows still invisible to all but her. And he didn't look at all happy.

Greg took her silence as compliance and he got up again. "Mom wants you back in ten minutes. Best not let her know you snagged a doughnut before supper. She may be all wrapped up in that stupid kid but she still has eyes in the back of her head."

On watching Greg leave Ronnie kept her eyes firmly on the shadows, and she whispered when she thought it safe to speak. "I don't wanna play secrets any more Mikey. Not if it keeps Greg mad at me."

"Yeah well Greg won't be the only one mad at you." countered Michael nodding to the stodgy mess in her fingers. "Anyways you promised to keep my secret

"I was hungry," pouted Ronnie, but started to lick the sugary mess off her fingers as best she could. Greg was right, Mom really did have eyes at the back of her head and sugar coated fingers would not go unnoticed. Glaring back up at her brother she sniffed haughtily, "I think secrets suck."

Michael folded his arms, dark dead eyes boring into his sister still fuming internally after his encounter with the strange boy earlier. "Tell me about this Sam. What do you see with him?"

Smiling broadly up her brother the words gushed out as she danced around him. "He's lovely Mikey. He makes my tummy go flip flop and my knees wobble when he speaks. You'd know why if you could see him. He shines bright."

"I saw him already. You have to keep away from him. It's not safe Ronnie. He's not safe."

Ronnie stopped twirling to come to an sudden halt at the suggestion from her brother. "What ya mean Mikey? I can see he's good."

"Yeah well that's the problem. You see too damn much. You keep the fuck away from him you hear me. Keep away from that little shit."

Shocked at the language and the violence behind it Ronnie shied away from the angry spirit, and sucked in a breath of concern, "Why are you so mad Mikey? I thought you'd like him."

"Why the hell would you think that? That little bastard is in my room, in my house, when it should be me. He sees too much and I want him gone."

"No Mikey, mom needs to look after him. He can't go. I don't want him to…."

"I want him gone," snarled back Michael his eyes so dark that Ronnie felt a shiver of fear freeze her to the ground.

Her hands clamped over her mouth to stifle a cry of shock as her brother transformed before her. The fully fleshed figure that she had always seen was suddenly losing substance, reverting into the wraith that he was and all soft edges and all that made him human were becoming lost to her sight.

As his spirit form manifested itself fully she cried out in alarm and shrunk as far as way as she could from it. "Mikey please stop it, you look really scary."

"I want him gone," screamed the spirit and his words echoed around the barn so that the hatred he bore vibrated through the very air and ground underfoot. "He can't have what's mine. He can't take you away from me to."

"Stop it Michael," begged his sister, her face awash with tears as her ears popped under the pressure and the air become so charged that the hairs on her head stood up. She confessed in a hiccupping sob, "I'm frightened."

"I'll make him gone," answered Michael the cold fury in him ignoring his sister's plea as his form continued to flicker in and out of like a weak black and white TV signal.

Ronnie survival instincts kicked in and she started to run out of the barn in a desperate need to get back to the house, back to the safety of her daddy. Shaking his head Michael hissed misinterpreting her actions, "You can't go to him."

With a physical pull she felt herself fall backwards and the little girl gave up a small scream of utter fright before her world upended itself and she fell to the ground in a dead faint.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

"Hey sport, how ya doing?" asked John as his son groggily opened his eyes in the recovery room. Green eyes slowly focused on him and he gave him a brief grin before gripping his shoulder in a tight squeeze of reassurance before he sat back in the chair. "You really know how to add the grey to my head son."

"Dad. What the hell happened?" Dean asked slowly before he felt the familiar nausea after an anaesthetic take hold and he swallowed quickly. "Sick…"

John jumped into action, bringing his head up of the pillow quickly and propped the bowel under his chin as Dean emptied a few mouthfuls of bile. A nurse rushed in and John turned to her sharply. I told you this always happens after a general."

"Its okay Mr Robinson I'll get an anti-haematic for him. It will work straight away. "

Weakly Dean fell back onto the pillow, his eyes burning as he struggled to draw in an even breath. His whole body felt on fire, from his scalp to his toes. It truly felt like a freaking house had fallen on him.

A sour grimace crossed his face when he remembered that's what exactly what had happened. That damn warehouse and a pissed of poltergeist had all decided to literally give up the ghost all at the same time. He could remember his dad's scream of warning as the west wall started to come down and little else since.

Ignoring the wave of nausea it brought with it he turned his head back to his dad and saw how tired he was, "You okay dad?" When he merely nodded he asked, "How bad is it. When can you spring me from this joint?"

Not quite able to look at his oldest in the eye John hesitated before admitting. "You busted up your left leg good and proper son. Multiple breaks that are gonna take time to heal. You're not going to be running the Boston marathon anytime soon that's for sure."

Trying to see just what damage had been done Dean twisted his head up to see for the first time his raised bandaged leg, supported by an array of wires and counter weights. Paling at the sight he groaned out loud, "Jeez – dad this can't be fucking happening. I can't be laid up like this. What about Sammy?"

"Don't you dare worry about your goddam brother Dean. Not now. Don't you freaking dare. None of this might have happened if he hadn't decided to run off like this. He knew we needed him but the selfish boy still left. If you hadn't been so distracted over him leaving you might have been more alert, you might have noticed the goddam wall falling. I don't want you getting hurt like this ever again. Hell son you might have….."

"Dad…no." called out Dean weakly, flinching as the words boil out of his dad uncontrollably. Words that were vicious and condemning and left little chance to ever take them back and not pretend they weren't meant or heartfelt. Dad really was letting go of Sam, with no intention of trying to get him back. He was going to let that bastard Jennings's win.

John choked back the last of his tirade of words at seeing the look of horror on his son's face and on hearing his soft plea to stop. Forcing himself to calm down he hissed, "Damn it Dean, just don't let your brother's leaving screw you over like this ever again. It's not going to get you any better any sooner if all you do is worry him. Hell its not as he will even care what happens to us living the life in sunny California. We're as far away from his thoughts as the distance he has put between us."

"You're wrong dad. Sam does care, and if he knew about this he'd come back…" He waved his hand over the direction of his shattered leg convinced that his brother would be back when he knew how badly things had gone.

"You sure about that?" commented John darkly. "You sure he'd come back for you, for this, when he chose to leave you behind in the first place."

Dean hastily blinked back the burn of tears not really wanting to believe that his brother would desert him like this. Sam had always stuck by his side whenever he had been hurt, he couldn't think of a time when he hadn't been his permanent shadow every time he'd been in hospital. It was crazy to even think that his little brother wouldn't be here from him now when he needed him.

Resolutely he shook his head defying the pain that tore through his body as a secondary concern. "No when he finds out he'll come back. He'll beg the money of Aaron and fly straight back. I'm sure of it."

"Sure," snorted John cynically. "I'll be sure to remind you of this someday."

"No dad, he maybe pissed with us both at the moment but you're wrong to think he won't care about this." Dean had to keep faith with his brother despite what dad might think.

Shaking his head in dismissal John countered, "Dean you're just making this harder on yourself. It's time to let your brother go. Understand son, he made his choice, son and he doesn't want to come back."

Pushing aside his dad's comments he asked desperately battling against the pain and nausea, all Winchester bravado gone. "You tried ringing the professor right, to let Sam know? I know the bastard been ignoring my calls but at least you can get a message to him to pass on to Sammy. Please dad just give the kid a choice at least. Let him decide what to do next."

John looked directly into his son's eyes and dared to lie. Because how could he confess to the desperate figure lying in that bed that he had well and truly screwed up big time with his youngest son and that he was scared shitless that he was going to lose them both now.

How could he tell him that he hadn't a clue were he was or that Aaron Jennings was out of the country and the believed safety net he represented for his brother was gone. That Sam was out there with no money and no back up other than Pastor Jim and their friends scouring the country for him. Or that it may be already too late.

No he reasoned it was best to let his oldest believe that Sam chose to stay away. If he knew the real reasons why his little brother didn't come back then the dark fear of the unknown would eat away at Dean. Bit by bit it this would tear him apart as there would be too many 'what ifs' to not be deeply afraid for Sammy.

And god did he know what this fear felt like inside, crippling and crushing, slowly tearing away at him at losing his youngest like this. He wouldn't put that kind of burden on Dean's shoulders too. He just couldn't.

So the lie came out in a growl. "I got a message through and Sam knows Dean. He's not coming back."

John dared to hold his son's gaze as he absorbed the lie, keeping the flinch of pain from his face as he watched Dean sink defeated back on the pillow slowly starting to shut himself off. Watching as he let go of his need for his brother by his side bit by broken bit.

As he held back the truth he silently prayed for Sam to be found soon so that he could start to repair the damage he was doing to his oldest, and perhaps to both his boys. The lie had to stand until then.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Greg had sprinted at full throttle back into the barn at hearing his little sister scream. Ronnie was not a girl to scream lightly and his heart pounded in his chest as he flew through the open doors to see her lying slumped on the ground.

"God Ronnie…no!" he hollered as he picked her in a swoop in his arms his eyes checking her over for any physical damage and finding none. Shaking her gently he tried to rouse her, "Come on Ronnie, open those eyes for me. Big brother's got you now."

Ronnie gasped shakily responding to her brother's warm touch and anxious words. "Greg?" she asked in a whisper hot tears rolling freely down her face glad to be safe in his arms.

"Yeah kiddo its me. What made you scream? Why'd you faint like that?"

Ronnie wrapped her arms around her brother tightly and shook her head afraid of what Michael would do if she told. "It's a secret. I'm not supposed to tell. He made me promise."

"Well you have to tell me Ronnie. I'm your brother and I need to know. Okay? No more secrets."

Blue watery eyes met his and she slowly nodded hopeful that Greg would keep Michael away from her. Trembling in his arms she whispered, "He scared me Greg. I don't wanna play with him no more."

"Who scared you honey? Was it that Sam kid, did he do something?" demanded Greg his eyes searching around the barn for the taller boy readying to punch his lights out if he had hurt his sister in anyway. When Ronnie shook her head fiercely he asked again. "Who frightened you then?"

Eyes wide with fear she turned her head slowly round to take in the barn before leaning back at Greg and in a tight fearful voice whispered into his ear. "Michael."

Choking back his disbelief Greg fell onto his backside with his little sister still clinging desperately to him like her life depended on it. Struggling upright he shook his head in denial. "No Ronnie, that's not possible. I told you Michael's dead."

Nodding her head the little girl cuddled into her brother again. "But he didn't go up to the angels like daddy said. And now he's really mad. You'll stop him won't you Greg. Please make him go away."

For all her short five year life there was one thing about his little sister he had admired, her inability to lie. Sure she could fudge, hold her silence, but when push came to shove her mouth spilled the truth. Watching the emotions run off her he frowned. Was this really the secret that she had been keeping from them all? Was Michael really still with them? Whispering out loud he called out hopefully, "Michael? You still with us big brother?"

A howl screamed through the barn, ungodly, totally inhuman, and Greg swallowed back an instinct to scream as the air grew so cold around him so that any moisture in the atmosphere froze on his skin in pearlised drops of ice.

Looking at his little sister, seeing the confirmation on her face that this was really happening, that this little secret of hers was true, the fifteen year old did the only thing feasible to him. He stood up with his little sister tight in his arms and he ran.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Whatever restraint that had kept his supernatural charged anger at bay vanished the moment his little sister doubted him. Why the hell was she scared of him when it should be that damned impostor in his bed that she should be afraid of. He was the scary one, not him. This was his home, his family and he was not going to let this kid steal anything more from him.

He had wanted to wait until the house went quiet to deal with this Sam boy once and for all. But now with both his siblings against him it was now the time for action to regain that which he had lost.

That damn drunk driver may have shattered his body into many breakable pieces but he refused to believe that he had to let that break him away from his family. If he got rid of Sam then there would be no need to be afraid of losing Ronnie ever again. They could all be a family again and things could back to the way there were.

Especially if he could get back from the kid the feeling of life again.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

"Hey Jim, I got a message that you needed to speak to me" smiled Aaron Jennings down the tinny sounding line from England. "What's been happening my old friend?"

Jim Murphy froze for a second before daring to ask, "Aaron hey man it so good to hear from you, but I need to know have you heard from Sam Winchester?"

"Samuel? Not for a few weeks. He had just graduated last time I spoke to him. Sorry I couldn't be there for him. You know I really would have loved to have seen that kid take centre stage, but you know his dad would have kicked up a storm if I showed my face. Still I'm so damn proud of that boy."

Jim swallowed back the response that he hadn't needn't had worried as the kid was the only one there for his own graduation, not wanting to add more fuel to the fire he knew was about to ignite. He was just thankful that Sam hadn't told him exactly how his graduation day had played itself out. That boy sure did know how to keep things to himself at times, and it was now no wonder that he had managed to keep this whole college thing from his dad and Dean.

As the pause down the line continued the tall man frowned and dared to ask, a feeling of alarm taking hold for his young protégé. "So why do you ask after Sam? He's okay Jim?"

Jim's sigh was deep and long as he confessed. "He got into Stanford."

"Fucking a-fantastic," whistled an ecstatic Jennings down the line. "I knew he'd do it. That kid is so smart it makes me feel stupid at times. God he must be over the moon. Did he get that scholarship too?"

"Yeah he did. Thing is though John went ape-shit at the boy when he found out."

"Well that's no fucking surprise," commented Aaron dryly. "Kid could never do right in that man's eyes. He survives a bloody earthquake and a house falling on him and it's still his fault for daring to stay alive. That bastard Winchester is just plain whacked when it comes to that boy of his."

"Oh for the love of all things in heaven will you stop it Aaron. Now's not the time to go into I hate 'John Winchester' mode. Sam needs you," barked Jim down the line, tired of being piggy in the middle to the two warring men.

"What do you mean Jimmy. Just how does Samuel need me? For godsake tell me what's happening. Is the lad okay?"

"I really don't know old friend. Sam's gone. John told him leave when he found out about Stanford, Now that boy is out there trying to get from Michigan to California on just a few dollars of change in his pockets. No one has heard from him, I was just really hoping he had tried to ring you."

"Shit," cursed Jennings down the line. "This is so not good."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Connie put a cold flannel on the boy's troubled forehead and sighed. If his fever didn't lift soon she would have to get Dave to drive them into town and get him checked out properly. It wasn't the concussion that had her worried anymore as she could see that was lifting. All day he had managed to hold his own in a conversation and seemed so much more alert. Yet now he seemed just drained, as if the energy had been sucked from him allowing whatever virus that held him in sway to take hold.

"Come on Sam, fight this. You're a strong kid." Connie demanded as she smoothed back the wet bangs from his forehead. "Tell me what's going on here son."

Sam eyes half opened to take in her concerned gaze and smiled weakly as he looked through her at something, someone else. "Dean? I'm sorry brother. Please don't be angry with me anymore." It was a confession, murmured with hope, before he closed his eyes again, letting the pull of sleep drag him back under.

"Oh honey, I'm sure your brother isn't," professed the older woman her eyes burning bright with unshed tears. The boy said too much in sleep or in fever, too much to ignore and not feel the pain. The boy really did need his family, his brother, no matter how his silence spoke of independence when he was awake.

She put down the flannel and sighed. The last twenty-four hours were a reminder that she wasn't in her twenties any more and that doing an all-nighter was something for the young. Not since having Veronica had she felt so tired. It was like having a new baby in the house again, throwing her schedule and body clock into oblivion.

It was her son's bitter cry tearing through the house that stilled her heart next. The word 'Ronnie' a tight scream the air. Panic unprofessional as a nurse but totally that of a mothers took over and she raced out of the bedroom that held too many bittersweet memories to literally leap down the stairs to see both her remaining children caught in a tight huddle in the doorway.

"Oh my god Greg, what's happened?" gasped Connie as she saw the terror on both their faces.

"Michael," squeaked Ronnie at her mother as Greg struggled to keep his body from shaking uncontrollably thankful that his sister could speak for them both right now as he was sure that only gibberish borne after seeing that _thing_ in the barn would come out of his mouth right now.

Blanching Connie staggered, feeling a tight band squeeze her chest trying desperately to understand what her children were trying to tell her. "Michael?"

"Mikey is coming to get Sam mommy," warned Ronnie.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam couldn't breathe again. The heavy weight of earlier sucking the breath from him and this time the whole of his body trembled in pain. It was worse than before, the energy draining out of him so fast he could feel his organs shutting down and the blood stilling in his veins.

He didn't hear the glass shatter in the windows or the dresser. He didn't hear the terrified gasp of Connie Huffman as she raced back into icy room. He didn't hear his own breath stutter to a halt as the life was sucked from him.

All he heard was the cry of his brother calling for him, as if something awful had happened to him and he hadn't been there to stop the hurt.

_TBC_

**Reviews would be lovely, even if I did end it on a little bit of a cliffie…….**


	8. Chapter 8

_**All usual disclaimer about owning nothing re Kripke's world of supernatural apply. **_

_Mega thanks for all those seriously lovely reviews, all wonderfully devoured!_

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 8 - Sammy gets royally pissed off!**

Connie Huffman was a woman who thought herself raised tough enough to deal with most things that life threw at her but this was beyond her ability to absorb and all she could feel was complete horror. That 'thing' smothering the boy on the bed just could not be her child.

It just wasn't possible. Michael, her baby boy, could never be that dreadful thing.

She wasn't aware that was it herself screaming out loud until she was forced to take a long shuddering breath as her lungs burned for oxygen. The room went abruptly silent as she sucked in a much needed drag of air and finally she found enough strength to whisper out a prayer. "Oh my sweet lord, please this cannot be true."

Fear kept her firmly rooted to the open doorway as she watched in disbelief as the apparition turned his attention from the boy to her and the tears spilled freely down her cheeks as the spectre drew itself up tall revealing features weathered and altered with death but were definitely that of her oldest boy. Huskily she choked out in disbelief, "Michael?"

"Mom," hissed the bereft spirit, reaching towards her as if he was going to demand a physical embrace from her and instinctively her body flinched involuntary away from the approach.

Whatever that was left of Michael that was human stopped in its approach to his mother, noticing the intense look of horror on her face. After all those days and months and years of trying to be seen here he was visible at long last to her eyes and he was left shattered as seeing the look of absolute horror on her face. She was terrified. Of him, her first born son.

A guttural howl rose from out of him, the feeling of total rejection taking hold as he became certain that the stranger in his room had supplanted him in his family's affection.

As his dead eyes flickered over his mother's trembling from he started to burn from the inside out, asking himself when or where did her love go for him. How easy had it been to pour into this stranger instead? She was just like Ronnie and his brother, as all his family seemed to have turned against him. For the bastard in his bed.

Utter fury took over as the bitter emotions of rejection swamped his mind and with a sharp snarl he turned away from his mother projecting an invisible force that propelled the confused woman backwards.

Howling his resentment he spat out. "You bitch, your supposed to be my mother, not his. I'll make this bastard pay for taking you all away from me. He can't have you, I won't let him."

As she was hurled away from her son a scream of surprise fell from Connie's lips as she found herself landing in the hallway with a bone jarring thud as the bedroom door was loudly slammed behind her.

"Michael, no, please, no," she screamed out again struggling back up onto her feet now daring to believe in the impossible. Her son was behind that door, angry beyond reason about to do something so dreadful that it didn't bear thinking on.

Desperately she reached for the doorknob but it wouldn't turn, frozen shut with some unnatural force behind it. Slamming a hand against the wooden door she hollered out desperately, "Michael, open the door, please for the love of heaven son let me in."

For all her life things had always been black and white, but now she found herself floundering in a world of grey. Her heart was beating out a warning that her oldest child was about to do something unnatural, a hurt that to not just to the boy in his bedroom but to himself. And she had to stop it.

"Please Mikey let me in," begged Connie as she continued to bang against the firmly shut door, fighting desperately as her knees started to sag as the strength drained from her physically. With the tears falling freely she wasn't aware of anything above the need to see her son again and stop him from doing something dreadful. "Oh please baby its mommy...I'm sorry honey. I'm so sorry."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean came back to consciousness again with a dry mouth wishing desperately for the ice cold sting of something wet to wash down his throat as he choked out his brother's name on too parched lips. Reluctantly his eyes opened as the heavy realisation that his little brother would not be sitting by his side to tease him mercilessly to get his ass out of bed and to get him back to some sort of fighting fitness hit home.

Because here he was a prisoner in some dreary hospital room, in some grey no name hospital, his leg so busted up that he'd be lucky to walk again without a limp and his baby brother, his little brother he would have died for the last eighteen years, just didn't give a stuff.

Wondering at just how could he have really gotten it so wrong Dean tried to keep his tears in check, because he would have sworn on his own grave that his baby brother would have come back for this, for him.

Now all he knew was that it truly was just him and dad. His little brother really didn't want him in his life, or didn't care enough to want to keep him there.

Angrily he asked himself just why the fuck had he been stupid enough to have been beating himself worrying about the brat these past few days when it clearly his little brother didn't feel the same.

Dad was right it really was time to let go. Let Sam have his high idealised life with Jennings in California, because if this what he truly wanted, if this was the only thing he truly cared about, then dam it to hell he was well and truly shot of the little selfish bastard.

"Sammy," still he whispered to the grey walls, defying the need for fresh pain medication as he asked softly, the defeat written over his young face. "Why?"

**o0o0o0o0o**

Through the veil of sleep the screams and banging wormed its way to his subconscious and the feint ping-ping of alarm bells in the distance slowly penetrated the fog that had kept Sam under.

_Just who the hell was screaming out there? Was that really Mrs Huffman crying? Why was Dean so near to screaming out a hurt that had no auditory sound? Did his brother really need him and just why was Ronnie crying so loudly it stung his ears, so loud as to match the noise her mother was making?," he asked himself hazily. Why the hell was there so much freaking screaming going on?_

With a long deep breath he struggled back to the real world becoming more aware, more alert, despite the feeling that something had drained the very marrow from his bones to leave him feeling frighteningly weak. Again.

Fighting against the lethargy that had had him physically bound his mind was screaming to claw itself awake, to fight back to consciousness with all the will and might that made him a Winchester.

Finding his voice he muttered hoarsely, "Mrs Huffman?" Not even having to wait for a reply his senses screamed a warning that something decidedly wrong was going on in the room as the air around him curled in white puffs each time he exhaled.

"Damn it not again," spat out Sam as he struggled to full consciousness, ignoring the ache in his muscles, his entire body, as he dragged himself up to a sitting position.

Even in the duskily lit room he could make out an unnatural presence hovering by the doorway and whatever was on his lips readying to be spat out were stilled as he watched open mouth mesmerised as the ghostly presence flickered in and out of existence.

The spectre stood frighteningly still, its head cocked to the side listening to the pleas coming from the other side of the door. With a full shake of his head in angry denial the ghost's form flickered, broke apart for a second only to coalesce whole once more. Looking suddenly so pissed that the blood in Sam's veins dared to freeze.

"Its my room," the ghost hissed intransigently turning away from the doorway to fix its black dead eyes back on Sam, "Its mine."

'Holy shit', swallowed back Sam realising just exactly who the ghost was now. The figure by the barn, the angry stare he'd shot at him, the cold chill that had caused him to black out for a while was all down to the fact that the Huffman's had their own haunting going on here. Freaking as in 'I'm as dead as a dodo' Michael Huffman.

Sam felt sick to his stomach as it all made sense now, the reason why he had been feeling so physically wrecked each time he woke up today. Casper here had been recharging its batteries at his own expense. Really not a good thing at all.

The teenager wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he felt as here he was the son of a hunter of all things supernatural and for the second time in as many days he had been the target of the very things his dad had trained him to destroy. Stupid and dumber than dumb was what he should have written on his tombstone if he didn't make it out of this one alive he told himself bitterly. Either that or 'John Winchester was freaking right. Yet again.

With a small huff Sam galvanised himself into action as the burning sting of criticism he always expected from his dad whispered loud in his head. 'Fucked this up good and proper as usual, didn't you boy?'

'_Got to hell,' he dared to retort to the shadowy presence in his subconscious. He'd make it to California with no ones help but his own. Screw Dad, hell, screw everyone who expected him to live by the name John Winchester from now on. Screw anything linked to that cursed name. He was gonna do things his way from now on. _

Ignoring the pull on his healing cuts he rolled onto his side and grabbed up his holdall reaching a long arm down to the bottom to pull out his gun. He still had one round of rock-salt in the chamber and whether the Huffman's liked it or not he wasn't going to play chowtime for Michael here any longer.

"Come on you bitch, trying snacking on this for a change," he muttered under his breath as he tried to keep his hand steady enough to point and fire. The gun felt like a tonne weight in his grip and he struggled to pull back the hammer defying the tremor in his hand and arm as he took aim. The tell-tell tale of fatigue ran down his face as a nosebleed wet his upper lip but he purposely ignored it as his eyes locked firmly on the haunting spectre before him. Such weakness had to be ignored if he was to win the day.

The ghost stopped its slow approach to the bed surprised by the open defiance on the boy's face as he pointed a gun towards him. A warning tingled inside, recalling just how powerful the teenager had been earlier in ejecting him out of the house. That was something to fear not the stupid gun pointing at him and with a small feral smile stretched tight across parchment thin skin he shook his head in dismissal of the threat.

With dead eyes Michael could see the beautiful glow of strength burning less bright in the boy. He had taken enough from him to leave him too weak to do him any harm. Already he could see what effort it was costing just to keep the gun aimed, the strength that kept the boy conscious was fading fast and that meant that whatever power he had used before to shut him out was gone too.

Satisfaction gleamed in his dark eyes that soon he would be rid of this nuisance and then his family would be his once more.

What he really hadn't taken on board as he approached the bed again was that Sam despite his body's weakness, despite the tremor making the gun waver in his grip, was well and truly royally pissed off. And a pissed off Winchester was always a dangerous beast to anger and not be prepared for the consequences to follow.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Aaron Jennings was beyond furious as he walked back to his apartment near to the Cambridge campus. He ate up the ground at a furious pace ignoring the friendly greetings and glances his way as he sped past students and colleagues alike. All he could think of was the words he wanted to say to the oldest Winchester and he wasn't afraid to physically match those words and dump him in on his ass once more to let him know the errors of his ways. That he really was one major fuck up when it came to being a father to his boys.

Jim Murphy may be more forgiving due to the collar he sported but damn it when he caught up with the John he was afraid that he'd do more than punch him as when they had their final parting of ways in Farnborough. Hell was full of idiots like John Winchester and that's where he'd be heading if Sam Winchester came to any harm. He'd make sure of it.

He slammed the front door so forcibly that the set of glass decanters on the sideboard rattled and vibrated a humming noise.

Distractedly he threw down his keys and poured himself a large measure of scotch. Taking a long hard chug, letting the fiery liquid burn its way down his throat, he let the anger inside mutate into a cold fury.

Alone in the daintily furnished living room cradling the glass in his hand Aaron Jennings felt suddenly way too old and very misplaced, and he knew it was time for him to return home. The warmth of California would be warmly felt again as the dark grey skies of England had now well and truly lost their charm.

For the last half a year he had managed to put the grief to one side and actually have a life again. His wife's passing had been a release for them both he now realised, though at the time all he could feel was this mind numbing loss that the women he had loved for over thirty years had died of something so ridiculously normal as a heart attack. The Martha he had known had had too large a heart to ever succumb to disease, and it was heartbreak for her lost children borne for over twenty years that had slowly killed her. Of that he was sure.

Cambridge, a year sabbatical from Berkley had been just what he had needed. Hell he could even say that he had some level of contentment going on now, something he hadn't felt in an age, content at least until that little chat with Jim Murphy.

Since then the terrible feeling of unease had not lessened even with a few pints in the pub in inside him. The scotch chasing on top of the beer was meant to deaden down this fear but instead all it was doing was making it seem more real. Vividly so.

Sam as intelligent as he was just didn't have enough street smarts not to see trouble ahead at the best of times. Dangerously he had this naïve ability to see only his own little universe buried in a book missing the dark 'what ifs' of the fucked up kind, of those seriously bad things around him that might want to strip the flesh from his bones rather than ask the time of day.

John knew this, knew that the fucked up ordinary of mankind could easily tear chunks out of the lad as soon as anything unnatural. And still he had let him go.

Sure they both knew that the lad knew enough about the supernatural kind to deal with it, but deep down he really didn't know enough to understand the dangers of the ordinary kind of dangers out there. Because for all of his eighteen years he had been blessed with his big smart mouthed wonderfully cocky older brother to be that wall between him and the dangers out there.

Be it inhuman or human Dean had always proved to be that constant protection barrier. But frighteningly now that force had removed himself from said protection duty and Sam was out there, naively green, frighteningly vulnerable to everything that looked its way at him.

Hell it was frightening to thing of the sort of human kind of trouble the kid might attract. So fucking awful that it had him worried sick. A young good looking boy hiking across America could draw a whole slew of weirdoes and nut-jobs his way. All fucking mental and all frighteningly human. And all capable of doing real harm to the boy

Sinking the last of the burnt orange liquid in the glass Aaron cursed out loud again. "Damn you Winchester just when did you lose all parenting sense in pushing the boy away like that?"

Just why for once hadn't the man taken the time to talk with his son then he might have been able really understand what made his boy tick. Anyone who had a lick of sense knew that ever since Farnborough this had been on the cards, the breaking away of the boy from his controlling father. Still he just hadn't imaged just how bad it was actually going to be.

"God Johnny, who's the fool now on losing a son now?" whispered Aaron softly not ashamed to let the tears fall in memory for the boys he had been reckless enough to lose over twenty years ago.

The tears fell freely also for the youngster who had managed to bury himself so deep into his heart since then, captivated instantly by the bright precocious five year old who grew into the fine sensitive young man of today that any man would be proud to call son.

His heart froze every time he thought of him out there, so far away as with no one to keep him safe. Because damnit to hell Sam really had taken his streak of independence to its most scary limits here.

They all knew that when that boy had a mind to do something he damn well did it, and that's what scared him shitless right now. The fact was that the kid had knowingly left Michigan with no money or a phone, armed only with enough stubborn fuelled self-confidence that he would get to California by sheer will power alone if needs be.

Pouring himself another snifter of scotch Aaron saluted the air with a miserable nod, "Samuel Winchester you'd better not be too much of a stubborn idiot to not ring me boy. There's a whole posse of people out here son who need to know that you're okay."

The words felt hollow as they left his lips, the futility of being so far away hitting hard. Slamming the glass back on the sideboard he picked up the phone his face grim with determination. It was time to get things settled up here fast and fly back to try and sort out this mess if he could. He'd not leave it to the mighty 'do-it-my-way-or-else' John Winchester to keep that boy safe.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dave rushed back into the house in a panic. It was if the entire world he had always called normal had gone crazy mad as he heard the litany of screaming and sobbing coming from his children and wife up the stairs.

Taking the steps two at a time he saw his two children huddling tight together at the top of the landing as his wife pounded inconsolably on Michael's door. Scooping up his youngest he tried to get some sense out of her but she just clung to him sobbing terrified into his shoulder.

Turning to his clearly scared son he asked hurriedly, "What the hell is going on here Greg? What's your mother doing?"

"It's Michael. He came back, and he's going to hurt Sam." Greg couldn't hold back a hiccupping sob from his throat as he watched his dad shake his head in denial.

"You've got to be kidding me," Dave laughed humourlessly and pushed past his crying son to head for his wife. Truly his entire family were caught up in the grip of mass hysteria to believe in all this nonsense.

Connie pummelled her fist against the door one last time, sinking to her knees in defeat as the door remained resolutely shut. "Please son I'm sorry. I was just scared for a while. But not now. Michael. Open the door for me. Please."

The terrifying retort of a gun being fired boomed out loud from behind the closed door and a howl inhuman in its quality screeched in return vibrating its way through the wooden structure and floorboards so that the whole house momentarily shook.

"Oh my god," murmured Dave as the scream and the vibration died down. Ronnie whimpered again into his shoulder and he reached his wife's side in one long stride. "Honey?" he asked as he dropped to his knees and searched her face for the truth of what had just happened. "What the hell is going on? What's this got to do with our Mikey?"

Connie took a long shuddering breath as he saw the disbelief and terror in her husband's eyes and realised that was what her oldest son had seen on her own face. "Dave it was him. It was Mikey, but he's so angry and lost. Oh god help me I was so scared and now he thinks such terrible things."

As difficult as it was with Veronica latched so tightly to him he still managed to pull his wife back onto her feet. "It can't be. It can't be him," he whispered still wanting to believe in the nice safe world of normal despite feeling his wife clinging to him for support.

Connie's head turned automatically to the locked door to her son's bedroom as it creaked painfully open and she prayed silently hoping that Michael had responded to her pleas, whilst Dave stored away absently a mental note to oil the hinges tomorrow before they both instinctively pulled a step backwards. Backing away from the unknown.

Wide eyed the Huffman family watched as the door swung open and collectively they gave a gasp of disbelief at seeing damage inside the room. Every window was shattered as was the glass in the dresser, with books and trophies littering the floor, In the corner of the room sat the visibly pale Sam, a thin line of blood dripping from his nose, over his lips and down his chin, all the while hugging a gun to his chest with a surprisingly wide smile on his tired face.

Seeing four pairs of eyes peering at him Sam gave up a soft shrug, "I don't think your son really likes me staying in his room after all Mr Huffman."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dave felt like he had lost all control as he watched the boy get up determinedly off the bed, walking across the littered floor shoeless, ignoring the crunch under foot, and headed past him to walk onto the landing. A look on the youngster's seriously preoccupied face stilled any questions that might want to be asked on his tongue.

Sam for his part had had enough of playing victim and was taking things into his own hands despite how weakened his body might feel right now. Fighting back the tremors of fatigue he locked eyes with Dave. "So Mr Huffman", he asked with an a almost surreal grace, "Your son Michael died when? And how?

On automotive response Dave found himself answering all the questions the teenager asked of him, not once pausing to ask why. As for Connie and his children for all intense and purpose they had seemed to have lost the power of speech and stayed silently at his side. They were left for all intents and purposes to shadow the surprisingly mature youngster as if he knew all the answers.

Sam had walked passed them all ignoring the blanket shell shocked stares coming his way and knew what had to be done. His green-blues eyes lifted in a knowing smile as he picked out the religious artefact for what it was hanging by the head of the landing wall at the top of the stairwell.

A crucifix, tacked loosely twenty or so years ago when the Huffman's had first move into this house, was just what he needed right now. Pulling the rosary from the wall he headed in an unsteady lope towards the bathroom ignoring the sharp questioning whispers of surprise behind him. The family Huffman were well and truly collectively too traumatised to stop him right now.

"_Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor_" he started in a deep whisper,the language so familiar to his tongue that very little thought had to go behind it as he filled a small basin with water.

Dipping the crucifix into the basin he continued the chant, "_Vidi aquam egredientem de templo, a latere dextro, alleluja: et omnes, ad quos pervenit aqua ista, salvi facti sunt, et dicent: alleluja, alleluja_"

He may have been stupid to leave his father's house woefully unarmed but he wasn't so stupid as not to find his own methods of protection when needs be. And now a bucket full of holy water was what he could make use of coupled with a little exorcism ritual along the way. Michael Huffman really did need to rest in peace and he was going to make sure that it happened. Of if not he'd kick his sorry ass permanently into limbo.

'Okay', he told himself as he blessed the water his concussion disappearing behind his need to remain frighteningly lucid as the Huffmans really had no idea what their son had become, or the danger he now represented, 'lets go kick some ghostly ass."

_**TBC**_

_Again let me just say how wonderful the reviews have been. I really did get a bit of block going on here and just struggled to get past the opening sentence for the longest of days! All I know is that the next chapter sees Sam on his own again, Aaron winging his way back Stateside as mad as hell still and John Winchester struggling to remain there for Dean as the urge to go out and hunt takes hold_! _And oh yes fresh whumpagea & limpage to come!! Let me know your thoughts if you can! Rozzy,_

_Latin transalation go as follows:_

1. "_Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabo_r" You will sprinkle me, Lord, with hyssop, and I shall be cleansed; you will wash me, and I shall become whiter than snow

2."_Vidi aquam egredientem de templo, a latere dextro, alleluja: et omnes, ad quos pervenit aqua ista, salvi facti sunt, et dicent: alleluja, alleluja_" I saw water flowing from the right side of the temple, alleluia; and all to whom that water came were saved, and they will say: alleluia, alleluia


	9. Chapter 9

**_All usual disclaimer about owning nothing re Kripke's world of supernatural apply. Warning of language etc still apply. _**

_Thanks for all the last reviews and I'm sorry but I didn't have time to say personally my thanks as RL proved to be a real a madam but I will respond one and all soon. Hope you enjoy this looooong chapter. Rozzy. _

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 9 – Wheels**

The surreal thing about all of this thought Sam after he had explained exactly to the Huffman's on just what their dead son had become was just how normal it had all sounded to him.

Seriously he realised that being John Winchester's son for the past eighteen years really had given him a totally screwed up view of the world as here he was playing a scene straight of the freaking 'Exorcist' as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

With the holy water in tow he had managed to steer the family back down to the kitchen making a clearly shaken Connie Huffman sit down before she fell down. Offering up an apologetic nod over to her equally shell-shocked husband he really had no idea how to make this any easier for them now that the cat was literally out of the bag.

A 'Fucked-up Dead Ghost Son,' was never easy to airbrush away he admitted to himself with a small snort of acknowledgement, ignoring firmly the way his entire body wanted him to curl up into a small bundle and sleep the rest of the night away.

Ronnie despite the trauma of earlier seemed more alert although still firmly planted on her dad's lap sucking her thumb, tickling the bridge of her nose with her middle finger in comfort, while throwing Sam big knowing glances up at him as if he had all the answers for her.

Greg for all his earlier bravado was still but a young teenager in crisis, hovering by the kitchen doorway looking for all of his fifteen years frighteningly lost. Finding out that his older dead brother was not at peace as he had always been told to believe had shattered his self belief in all the dreary Sunday lectures he had endured over the years.

Sam despite only having less than a fingers breath ahead of him in age could see that the boy was ready for collapse and took charge again planting a firm hand on his tense shoulder, "Come on I need your help here man."

Clearly surprised the younger boy looked up at Sam strangely reassured by the hand resting on his shoulder so confidently and nodded swallowing back the dread that still haunted him. "Me? What can I do?"

"I need salt, lots of it. Can you get that for me?"

"Salt?" queried the boy clearly confused by the request and looked tentatively for reassurance from his dad but all he got was tired shrug.

As like the rest of his family Dave Huffman was struggling to accept what was happening on and couldn't possibly see how some salt would stop that thing they were convinced was his oldest child.

Sam though knew that time was racing away from them and didn't have the patience to moddle-coddle the teenager or the dad any more. "Look dude the stuff acts like a protective barrier and will stop anything bad from getting to your family. Lay a thick line around the outside of the table and then get your ass inside the circle. And do it fast."

Dave Huffman gave a hollow laugh feeling totally stripped of all power as head of the family as he watched Sam direct his boy into action. Finding his voice he spoke openly of his disbelief. "Look I know you hit your head hard yesterday but this really is going too far now. You think spouting a bit of mumbo jumbo crap and throwing some salt around us will make me believe any of this nonsense. This is all madness."

Sam didn't respond noticing with sharp eyes how Connie clasped her trembling fingers over her husband's hand and squeezed gently, "I saw what I saw honey. Our Michael was here."

"Oh god this can't be happening, not to us" admitted Dave hollowly. His family just couldn't go through this pain again.

Realising that the ghost might return at any moment Sam decided that he needed to press his point home, as the emotionally fragile Huffman family really did need to get this over and done with.

Keeping his voice as calm as possible he didn't want to frighten them any more than they already were, "I'm really sorry sir, for you all, but either I do this now or you'll have to call in the local priest later. Your son won't be at rest until he's made to move on. And the longer he stays here the angrier and more dangerous he becomes."

"But why now? After all this time - it's just doesn't make a lick of sense," snapped back Dave before turning an outraged face up at Sam and demanded, "Just how in hell do you know all of this stuff anyway?"

"Lets just say it's the family business and leave it at that," huffed Sam back with a wan smile unwilling to elucidate further. It was all too much of a minefield of crazy to take him down right now.

"But if this is true why didn't he pass on? Just why the hell is this all happening?"

Sam shook his head in response, "There could be a whole world of reasons on what made him stay. I can't give you anything other than he died suddenly and he hasn't dealt with that perhaps."

"No, its because of Veronica," confessed Greg in a scared whisper his head cocked to one side as he looked directly at his little sister. "Squirt here has been seeing Michael since he died, haven't you? He's been in the barn all the while and we just didn't see him. Except her."

All eyes turned to the little girl who buried her head back into her daddy's chest under the scrutiny. A muffled childish confession came out, "Michael wasn't mean then and he told me he was my special secret. And I liked him being with me because he would play with me."

Sam crouched down to her and tipped up her chin up to meet his eyes. "It's okay Ronnie, you've done nothing wrong. But you have to let your big brother move on now. He'll be happier then. You understand, yes?"

Saucer wide eyes stared back at him and she nodded her understanding throwing him a hopeful smile, "He needs to go up to the angels doesn't he? You'll help him get to them, won't you Sam?" She leant forwards and whispered happily, "I told Michael you were special. I'm glad you made them all see him again."

Connie couldn't keep her heartbreak inside at hearing her little girl's frank words and started to sob again. Cradling her head to his shoulder Dave kept her tight to him, letting the spill of her tears soak into his shoulder as he battled to keep his own from falling. Michael's death even after two years was just too painful to get past.

Sam slowly pulled himself upright masking his surprise at the little girl's words. Had he really been the means for the ghost to become visible to his family? A frisson of guilt hit him, that yet again he was proving a magnet for the freaking weird and unnatural out there and that by coming to the Huffman's home like this he had been the catalyst for all the trauma they now found themselves going through now.

Absently he touched the back of his head letting the throb in his skull remind him of just how and why he had ended up in the backwoods of Idaho. Fate sure played funny tricks at times he realised, because for all his attempts to do normal here he was with a dead boy's angry spirit readying to finish the job that the last ghost had started.

Damn it all to hell this whole supernatural 'lets whump the living daylights out of Sam Winchester' was getting old fast, he had to admit to himself. Able to shrug off his resentment and pushing back the woolly feeling in his head after Michael's last attack he grimly reminded himself that the Huffman's deserved to be free of the threat he had managed to stir up for them all.

Locking eyes with the expectant youngest Huffman he threw her a reassuring smile, dimples and all and watched her smile back wide in return. "It will all be okay Ronnie I promise. I'll help him move on."

Should be a walk in the park he told himself grimly as he gingerly fingered the bottle of holy water in his hand. All he had to do was head over to the barn have a little tête-à-tête with the oldest Huffman boy, aka seriously pissed off angry spirit, offer up the odd muttering of Latin in form of an exorcism with a healthy sprinkling of holy water and 'voila' the ghost will have been forced to go on its merry way.

'Nothing to it,' he told himself humourlessly as he tried to steady himself wishing that he didn't feel so utterly wasted or that his legs still felt like sticks of wobbly jello.

Whatever Michael had done to him before really had knocked him for six and he'd be digging deep just to find the strength to walk to the barn never mind exorcise his sorry ass.

Not for the first time since leaving Michigan did he regret not having his smart mouthed macho ghost-kicking brother at his side. Dean would have toasted this pesky Casper ten times over by now he realised, whilst here he was still dithering in some farmer's kitchen trying to find enough strength of mind and body to do the necessary.

'Good one Sammy,' he rebuked himself, 'Time to stop thinking and start doing. Dean didn't teach you to flunk out like this.'

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

Head Nurse Clementine was not a woman prone to violence but she seriously wanted to whack Dean Robinson's behind and wash his mouth out with soap for terrorizing her staff like this. She knew that most of his aggression was down to the after effects of the anaesthetic, topped up with the tip of a depression forming at having to deal with a long haul in hospital as the leg healed, but that still didn't give him the right to be downright mean all the time.

Too look at the boy you'd have thought butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, and with those green eyes and megawatt smile he sure was a pretty package to behold. But come open his chops and all thoughts of angelic vanished. He was one seriously mouthy young man whose very existence was in danger if he didn't start to rain in the language soon on her shift as the odd overdose of sedatives could so easily be arranged.

As she marched back into his room she saw the smirk reappear on his face and raised a starched eyebrow in return. This was akin to going into battle and she mentally rolled her sleeves up readying for a dirty fight.

Already his pet name for her was on his lips and she wagged a finger to stop him before he could speak. "No Mr Robinson, call me what you like, Nurse Attila, Demon-bitch-from-hell, any name you like its still not going to change the fact that you're stuck here and going nowhere until that leg heals. So help us all."

Watching how his eyes darkened and top lip curled readying to hurl further insults her way she jabbed a none too professional finger at his chest and growled a warning, "Though I can if necessary arrange to break the other leg if you keep up this nonsense!"

"You and whose army because I'll be out of here Mother-frigging-Theresa sooner than you think," snapped back Dean in return masking the tang of guilt on his tongue.

He really had been a complete bastard all day and the nurse here had him pegged, that he really was being a monster patient from hell. But that didn't stop the frustration coursing through him or stop the acid dripping from his lips. "You're supposed to bound some hypocritical oath you old witch. Help, heal and all that other nursey crap. Threatening a patient with further breakage just sort negates all that pussy stuff, doesn't it frau Hitler?"

"Well seeing that I'm such a demon-bitch Mr Robinson I'll leave that all up to your imagination. But if you continue to terrorise my staff the way you have 'something' is going to snap. You get my drift?"

"You're little prissy girly-girls can go pee their panties rather than step into this room again for all I care," snarled back Dean sourly ignoring pointedly the implied threat behind the older woman's stare.

Nurse Clementine acknowledged his confrontational remark by tutting just the once before answering. "Lets be seeing who wets their panties next Mr Robinson because rest assured the only place you'll be going to fast if you keep this bad mouth attitude in the Padiatric ward."

"Scuse the fuck me?" questioned Dean with a raised cocked brow, his jaw jutting out in ready defiance. The head nurse may appear to be a woman but he still had his doubts, as demon spawn seemed more likely as she gave him the evil eye in return.

Ignoring his profanity Nurse Clementine snorted derisively, "You want to keep acting like a spoilt brat that's where you will find yourself next. And believe me sonny the nurses down there really know how to deal with those pesky little brats who let their mouths run off at times. They don't need to play half as nice with the kiddies as we do with the so-called adult patients. You get my drift?"

"You don't have the stones," snarled back Dean humourlessly and felt a flutter of uncertainty as he watched her smirk confidently back in return. She was one tough old broad that he had to admire, because she had been the only so far who didn't end up throwing a wobbly at the end of his bed when he told them to get figuratively lost in his patented true 'Bad Ass Winchester' charm mode.

Arms folded over her ample bosom the head nurse really did look like she meant business and she shook her head emphatically, throwing him a withering look that would have stripped the flesh of most mortals. "Let me make this very clear Mr Robinson. If you make one more of my nursing staff threaten to quit at the end of their shift then I will personally be giving you your next bed bath. Or worse. Do I make myself clear?"

"Bring it on sister," growled back Dean with a genuine smile on his face for the first time since being admitted to the hospital. "You just want an excuse to run your fingers over my mighty fine body Nurse Clemmie! Don't think I don't know it."

For all her years as a nurse, for all her years in medicine, Tallulah Clementine had seen them come and go in all shapes and names but she had yet to meet a young man like this enigmatically dark irresistible badly behaved Dean Robinson. If she should could shed thirty years and dump her forth husband she knew that she would like to do more than give him a verbal tongue-lashing.

Desperately she tried to keep her thoughts in check but damn it all to hell he dared to waggle those way too expressive eyebrows at her suggestively and she was lost. Even as a giggle escaped she tried to rein it back with a few soft scolding words, "You are one naughty young man Mr Robinson. Really seriously one day someone is really going to give your sorry behind a good spanking…."

"Oh yeah a spanking, promises, promises! Bring it on Clemmie," purred back Dean with a lecherous grin.

Nurse Clementine groaned out loud at his bare faced audacity and she knew that this was going to be one long rehab for all of them, and was now secretly going to enjoy every minute of it. She promised herself.

"Am I interrupting anything here?" coughed John in the doorway his eyebrows raised in question at hearing the tail end of his son's conversation with the nurse.

Nurse Clementine turned to him, noting with an appreciative eye the rugged features of the father and shook her head. "Your son is decidedly a handful. He's been giving my staff hell all day."

Throwing a small withering look back to Dean she added in warning, "But I think he knows that from now on I will be expecting better from him."

"She just wants my body dad. Save me!" laughed Dean mischievously in return throwing his dad a warm nod in greeting.

John felt a weight being lifted from him suddenly. The dread of having to return to his boy whom he left this morning so darkly morose, wrapped in self-doubt and bitterness now just seemed a little bit easier to deal with and enable the lies to continue. Hope tickled in his gut, that perhaps he might ease up on missing his wayward brother and that maybe things would get a little easier from now.

Glancing a quick look at the older woman John could feel the strength of character emanating from her. Not at all pretty in looks, broad and round figured she still had a glint of personality about her that Dean was attracted to and could spark off. This feisty old broad was seriously what the doctor might have ordered he could acknowledge, as she might indeed keep his smart mouthed son under some sort of control as he was forced to stay in hospital.

Coughing back the frog in his throat John threw his patented dimple smile at the nurse, watched her melt ever so slightly and growled out his appreciation. "Thanks for keep him reined in. It's just that he hates hospital and this is going to be a long stay. It's just really hard to get our heads around all of this, but I now he will behave himself from now on I promise."

John ignored the snort of disgust from his son trussed up on the bed up like some prize ham and threw the nurse another award winning smile, noting the blush spread up from her thick neck, up her broad face, as a measure of domination he was exerting over her, "Trust me he will behave. Or you will have my permission to spank his sorry behind!"

"What's with the spanking fetish here dudes?" moaned Dean out loud. He shifted up a little in his bed and gasped back a curse as needles of pain shot up from his suspended shattered limb. His face drained of all colour and his vision swam so violently he shut his eyes against the pain to stop the indignity of vomiting up all over himself.

As quick as the sound came from her patient Nurse Clementine was at his side, adjusting the drip adding a him a shot of morphine to his medication to tingle nicely through him.

Throwing her a loopy smile as the pain meds dulled his senses Dean nodded his thanks at the feisty older woman. "Thanks Clemmie"

Patting his arm gently the war of words they had shared only moments ago were forgotten. "I'm on duty till early morning and I'll be back to check on you in an hour. Call me if you need anything before then Dean. Okay?"

"Sure Clemmie. Its not like I'm going to be making my great escape anytime soon anyway," answered Dean sluggishly his eyes shutting as the need for sleep took over.

John watched the nurse slip past him as his boy slipped into a drug induced sleep and sat silently by his side, watching the worry lines etched on his young face slowly fade.

For a moment as he watched a return to innocence wash over his boy and he could allow himself to believe that the lies he had told Dean about his brother had been for the best.

Dean, he told himself in justification, just couldn't handle the knowledge that his baby brother was still missing on top of all this. The not knowing of what was happening with Sam would just kill him. Just like it was killing him.

As he watched his oldest boy sleep the worry and doubt about his youngest continued silence wore heavy on him now. Why hadn't Sammy even tried to call his brother?

Did he really believe that his silence was for the best or that they really didn't need to know that he was okay?

Didn't he know that Dean would be going crazy with worry right about now if he hadn't concocted up this story about him being already in California with Jennings?

This lie that he had woven to protect Dean from the truth could only stretch so far and now he really did need to know that his little boy was safe. 'Come on Sam ring your brother,' he scolded him mentally, 'Don't be so frigging stubborn.'

His shoulders sagged as he checked their phones again. Without fail he had been checking both of them on the hour but not one missed phone call or message from the boy was ever there. Where before Sam could always be trusted to verbalise his feelings, his anger, his hurts, this unnatural silence didn't not sit right with him.

"God forgive me," he whispered roughly by his son's bedside daring to let his feelings show on his haggard face. "Please Sammy you best not do anything stupid or your brother will never forgive us both. Ever."

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

So much for getting to the barn and nixing the spirit before it nixed him winced Sam as the lights started to flicker overhead in the house and the air started to freeze around them. Throwing a quick glance at the Huffman's he growled a warning, "Stay within the circle. No matter what you see or hear."

A collective nod of heads followed and Greg inched instinctively closer to his dad and called out alarmed, "Oh my god dad he's coming back."

As the air became super charged there was an almighty pop as the light bulbs exploded above their heads plunging the room into semi darkness and the younger Huffman members screamed in open terror.

"Daddy I don't like this," whimpered Ronnie, clutching tearfully at her dads neck, "Make Mickey be good."

Sam swirled round trying to see where the ghost was but nothing was yet visible. Still he didn't need to see the ghost as every fibre in body prickled, senses screaming a warning, and he spun back to the open doorway of the kitchen. "Listen Michael I now your really pissed, mad as hell, but you have to let me help you. This isn't right and you know it, you have to move on."

The dead Huffman boy slowly coalesced back into his recognisable form and Dave Huffman stood up sharply his face falling open in amazement, his voice was a broken whisper as he called out, "Son? Is that really you?"

Connie snatched up her daughter from her husband's arms afraid that he might fall down as he stuttered a half step forwards. Daring to throw a look at her dead son she wanted to cry again as she could clearly see the inhuman quality in his eyes and again words failed her, stuck in her throat as fear hit her again. Her sweet gentle boy could not have been changed into this.

Sam on seeing how the family had reacted instinctively reached forwards and pushed forcibly back the farmer to stop him breaking the threshold of salt, shaking his head in a warning, "You have to stay within the circle. This is not the Michael you know or remember. "

Connie reached out a hand and pulled her husband back to her side, her trust in Sam based on the confidence he radiated. As she watched the tall boy remonstrate with her husband she couldn't help but notice that for his part the kid didn't look at all afraid, almost calm as he faced her oldest child again.

Finding her faith renewed she whispered a small prayer and closed her eyes, "Please Lord, please now let my boy pass into peace."

If her words had any gravity behind them they were lost on Michael. Fully formed again the ghost turned his attention back to Sam.

Sensing the focus shift back on to him Sam tried to step inside into the circle of protection but his reactions were too slow and next he felt himself airborne, defying gravity at a frightening speed.

Knowing what was to come he tried to absorb the impact as much as he could, trying not to tense muscle and limbs as he was thrown with a sickening crunch into a wall of kitchen cabinets that splintered and broke under the impact of his body.

Sam gave out a sharp short grunt of pain as old wounds reopened and new ones were made. Before he had a chance to gather his senses the ghost had slithered to his side and grabbed at him with ice-cold fingers, slipping around his neck, to pull him off his feet in a sharp jerk.

Fighting to draw in a lungful of much needed air he could feel himself dangle despite his height in midair, struggling futilely against the tight dead fingers crushing his windpipe.

Michael for his part continued to scream his world of hurt at him. "I hate you. Why should be alive when I can't be. You should be dead like me."

A collective shout of horror seemed to come from the other end of the kitchen as the Huffman's reacted as one as they watched the ghostly member drag a clearly hurt Sam up off his feet to dangle like a marionette above the floor.

Sam managed to think sourly that he really didn't not like this one little bit when the frigid touch suddenly left his neck and he was airborne again.

"MotherfuckerBitch" he screamed to himself unable to stop himself hitting the far wall with another hard smack and then he crumpled slowly down to the ground leaving a smudge of red in one long line down the rose patterned wallpaper.

Ronnie couldn't keep back her screams of panic at watching her beloved brother hurt her newly favoured friend and she shrieked again, her voice mingling in with that of the others around the table, as she watched horrified as Sam was thrown over their heads to land in a heap by the doorway.

Galvanised into action by her own indignation the little girl struggled out of her mother's arms and raced to Sam's side, fury written across her round face. Looking up the ghost she puffed out hotly, her young years not taking on board the danger she faced. "No Mikey, this is bad. You leave my Sam alone."

For his part the ghost was too wrapped up in his own intense hatred to heed her pleas for him to stop. All he wanted to do was destroy this boy who dared usurp his place with his family. Cold unfeeling hands snaked down to rid himself of the annoyance of the little figure standing between him and the boy and without thinking he snapped fingers on her tiny wrist readying to toss her to one side and little Veronica Huffman screamed in pain and open surprise. This really did hurt and her brother really was very scary.

Suddenly Michael's hands were stilled as strong arms, loving arms, held him fiercely in place, the power of the embrace generating a measure of warmth and belonging to flow back into him. Then his dad's voice whispered at the back of his head. "I love you son. But for the love of god let your sister go before you hurt her."

The sobs from his little sister finally penetrated the fog that had settled around him and the ability to see more than his own hurts became real once more. With a guttural groan of disbelief he released his sister's burning wrist.

With eyes that wanted desperately to shed tears he looked down at her and whispered. "Oh sis I'm sorry. I lost it. I really lost it all."

"Mikey. Don't you like me no more?" cried Ronnie, rubbing her arm against the stinging cold his touch had left her with not able to differentiate between the real and the negative emotions swirling around in her dead brother's head.

"I'm sorry Ronnie," whispered the spectre as the arms that made him feel real again let go of him. Anxiously he spun back to meet his father's gaze and saw the spill of tears and felt the burden of loss hit him again, "I'm sorry dad."

"Son…" responded the shattered father, eyes widening in disbelief again as reality started to fold in on itself. His son's ghostly form started to ripple and lose shape, readying to leave them all whether he liked it or not.

Around Michael's flickering form the air had become foggy and chilled and he spun back to see the taller boy he had meant to destroy back on his feet again, lips spilling words so easily he wondered just when or where he had learnt them.

Damn it the stupid punk kid was so damned hard to keep down. Instinctively he knew that the freeze in the air was brought on from the soft chant emanating from Sam's bloodied lips and as their eyes locked he could sense true determination and power behind the words. And he didn't like it. Not one little bit.

Frowning he tried to pull back, to retreat to the sanctuary of the barn, but he was held frozen in place. Tied, physically bound to the spot as the boy continued to mutter words that made no sense to him but they wielded such a power, an absolute control over him, that he knew what they must be brokerage for. An exorcism. Of him.

"No you can't do this. I have to stay," pleaded a suddenly fearful Michael Huffman feeling a tug on his soul that frightened him. It was a pull powerful enough to tear him permanently from his family and that didn't seem right at all. Stabbing a grey digit at Ronnie he howled a warning. "She needs me to protect her."

"You have to go to the angels. Just like Harold did," responded Veronica innocently as Sam continued to tower over her protectively. For a short dumpling of girl Ronnie Huffman was one hell of a strong willed five year old who had always been told that she could do anything if she saw a mind to do it. Now her mind was set on getting Sam to fix her brother and make him happy again.

She threw Sam up a knowing look, managing not to see the damage her brother had done on his latest attack, not seeing the stain of red dribbling from his lips in a path down his chin and neck. Instead she listened, her heart singing happily in support, fascinated by the deep cadence of his voice as the Latin script started to pour out of his bloodied mouth.

Letting her podgy fingers grip Sam's jeans in reassurance and support she directed her voice back to her dead brother letting blind faith speak out, "Its time to go Michael and let _them_ make you happy again."

Sam for his part, desperate to protect the little girl hugging his legs didn't try to interact with the ghost anymore. That route was permanently abandoned after his run in with the kitchen cabinets and wall. Now all he knew was that his only means of keeping her and her family safe was his voice, the power of the words that he could level at the angry spirit. Michael really did need to hear his words in all its finality.

Despite his throat being desperately sore and bruised, the raw huskiness of his vocalisation betraying this damage, or the blood that streamed down his nose into his mouth as he spoke, he still managed to spill out in a continued flow the rite of exorcism. "_Exorcizo te, immundissime spiritus…in nomine Domini nostri Jesu Christi_"

The ghost became momentarily solid as the penultimate words from Sam spilled free to wrap around him in a solid hug and a scream was torn from his hollowed out soul freezing all around him.

Stilled all except for Sam who had been around enough ghostly apparitions to not let emotions sway him and break his concentration. Despite the sharp pains hitting his upper chest each time he dared to breathe or speak he kept on with his liturgy of words, "_Recede, da locum, exi, discede…"_

And then Michael finally stopped battling, readying to take this final plunge into a deep oblivion with clearer eyes. Seeing for the last time with a sense of peace his family. Now he could absorb freely their tears, their sorrow, their longing for him to be beyond this limbo that had kept him pain bound.

How he wished he could tell them all, tell even this strange catalyst called Sam who had stormed into his family's life, just how marvellous this all was before the pull became final and he was snapped away. With a throwaway thought he hoped that at least the boy Sam might be able to tell them all this and give them some finality about him dying.

Then that which had once been Michael Huffman was gone.

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

Jim Murphy finished off a rough draft of his sermon on a dog eared yellowing writing pad for Sunday and yawned deeply, stretching his body out, letting the oxygen run through his veins and lungs to stir him into action again.

Aaron would be stateside in the morning and he knew that his first port of call would be to check in with him, but sadly he had no news to give him about the missing Winchester. The lad literally fallen off the face of the earth it seemed and not one of their small circle of hunters had even a hint to where he might be now.

He was not a man prone to panic but every time he thought of John's youngest child out there alone in this dark world his heart would start thumping and his mouth went dry and all he could do was offer up a prayer that the boy would be okay.

Now the one person who could be trusted to find him and protect him was laid up in a hospital bed, leg shattered and in traction for the next four weeks or so. Dean not out there, not able to hunt down his little brother, really was a loss because his instincts when it came to his little brother had mutated into something downright spooky at times.

How on earth the boy wasn't going crazy thinking about where his brother might be and not being able to get to his side didn't bear thinking on. John would have his hands full just keeping him tied to the bed during his recovery, that's for sure, as the Dean Winchester he knew and admired would not take kindly at being sidelined in the hunt for his little brother.

Still he had to hope that at some point Sam would resurface and maybe then he could try and facilitate a mending of sorts of what was left of the Winchester family.

Despite what that stubborn jackass John Winchester might say or want Dean deserved to have his brother back in his life.

Deep down he prayed that John had to know that what he was doing was plain wrong, that to keep those brothers separated was as unnatural as trying to breathe water.

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

Sam sunk back down onto the floor as Michael's spirit finally departed letting his body's multiple hurts take over once more, as it really sucked to just breathe at the moment.

Ronnie flung herself over him, calling desperately his name and all he could think as consciousness deserted him was that he was never ever going to do that ever again. His days of playing ghost buster were well and truly behind him he hoped. Sod the weird and dead out there he so wanted to do normal from now on.

When he came too next he found himself looking up at a white tiled ceiling and when he tried to sit up firm but gentle hands kept him from rising. "Its okay lad, you took a bit of battering but you'll be fine in time."

"Mr Huffman, what happened, why am I here?" Sam's eyes widened in surprise as just how messed up his voice sounded to his own ears. Tentatively he touched his throat and swallowed dryly, feeling the throb of bruises under his finger tips.

"You passed out lad, after you know…." Dave couldn't bring himself to say it out loud about what had happened with Michael and his wife stepped in. "He's at peace now Sam, isn't he?"

Slowly nodding Sam gave her an apologetic smile, "Yes I know he is. I'm sorry I didn't mean to cause your family so much grief …"

"You did nothing wrong Sam. Nothing. Just get well now."

Sam struggled up despite their protestations and ignored the room spinning in a vortex of white. The fear of being hospitalised greater than the throbs and stings littering his body.

Dad had always drummed into him unless it was life threatening the sanitised world of the medical world had to be avoided at all costs. "I need to go. I can't stay here."

"Listen lad you need to shush up here and not worry so. The doctors say we can take you home in awhile and that you'll be fighting fit in a few days or so. But until then you are in no fit state to be wandering the highroad hitching a lift to California. You hear me?"

Surprised at the firmness behind Mr Huffman's words Sam mutely nodded. The kindest of this family despite all they had been put through, what he had somehow managed to stir up for them, made his eyes swim with unshed tears.

Connie leant forwards and kissed his forehead gently. "It will be okay Sammy. Just lets just get you back home, before that pesky little girl of mine implodes with worry."

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

Since his return from the hospital Ronnie had become his constant shadow again and he couldn't help but love her even more for it. The little girl had buried herself into his heart so deep that he knew now what it must feel like to love for a younger sibling. Just like Dean must have felt for him growing up all these years. And now for the first time he could appreciate just how unselfish his brother's love had always been for him.

As each day passed, as each day his body grew stronger and mended, his fingers itched to call his brother but the fear of total rejection held him in check. Best to have some modicum of hope he kept telling himself. Hope that he might be able to heal the rift with his brother in time than to have it destroyed now when his brother refused to answer his call.

As the days passed he studiously watched as the Huffman family rebuilt the bases that kept them strong. The passing on of Michael had become a window of opportunity for them all to reconnect fully and not take for granted the love they all shared for each other.

Since coming back from the hospital, for the last five days he had given into his body's need for rest and and allowed himself to be nursed by the Huffman women, but the now the longing to speak or see his brother pressed hard and kept his focus elsewhere. His need for his brother was more than physical and the ache just grew deeper each day he was away from him.

As if sensing his thoughts Ronnie stopped pulling at her doll's threadbare locks as they both sat on the wooden veranda lapping up the last rays of sunshine as dusk set in Throwing up Sam a knowing look she remarked casually. "I think you're brother must miss you Sam. Miss you lots and lots. Just like you do him."

Smiling weakly Sam shook his head in denial. "Perhaps one day he might. But right now…."

Patting his hand gently Ronnie sighed trying desperately to keep her newest friend in her life, "I don't want you to go tomorrow. Why don't you stay and help daddy with the farm."

"Oh squirt I'm so not a farmer," laughed Sam easily for the first time in an age. "And I swear those cows have it in for me, giving me the evil eye whenever they spot me. They give me the willies…"

Ronnie collapsed into his lap giggling merrily at his words, "You think those stupid cows are scary? You're such a big baby."

"Yep I admit I have a big fat streak of yellow running down my back, because those beasts are freaking huge," confessed Sam laughing freely with the girl. "I think going to college will be so much safer than letting those demon spawn trample me into the ground."

Dave Huffman laughed behind them, astonished that this tall lanky kid could be afraid of anything or then admit to it. "Sam's right honey, he really is never going to be much of a farmer if old Betsy and the girls make him wet himself each time he sees them"

"Daddy," giggled Ronnie again, "May be he should be a pig farmer like me. Pigs are better than cows."

Sam blushed at the imagery planted in his head and hastily got to his feet managing to keep in check a wince of pain as his sore ribs protested at the sudden movement, "I don't think me playing farmer Huggett is on the agenda either kiddo."

Dave nodded and looked down at his daughter. "You best go wash up before supper. If mom sees all that chocolate over your face you will be in a whole world of trouble little miss."

Sam smiled as the youngster scooted back into the house before she was caught out by her all seeing mother. He caught the closed look on the farmer's face and frowned. "Is there something wrong Mr Huffman?"

"Come walk with me Sam before supper" directed the farmer as he stepped off the veranda confident that the boy would follow.

It was pleasant mild evening and the two men walked in an easy silence before Dave stopped by the large barn. Sam watched him carefully sensing that he had a need to get something off his chest.

"Look Sam I know you have issues with your dad, but I just don't think it's right that you completely give up on him. You should call him and let him know what happened. Give him the chance to come get you."

Tensing under the man's heartfelt words Sam felt the sting of tears and tried to keep his voice from rising as he answered truthfully, "You don't know John Winchester sir. He told me go and not come back and my dad never said a word he didn't mean. I left knowing that was the deal - that I could never go back. Never."

Gripping Sam's shoulder Dave shook his head. "You don't know that for sure, things said in haste or in the heat of temper are always regretted later."

Sam couldn't keep the tears from falling slowly down his cheeks. "He didn't speak in anger but cold truth. And the truth is I've always disappointed him and you know what I'm tired of that. Perhaps if I do well at Stanford then just maybe he might see something to be proud of in me. Its all I've got left, sir."

Realising that the hurts the boy held within were deeper than the hurts on the surface Dave pulled away from him and yanked open the barn door to walk inside, flipping the light switch and bathing them in a bright yellow light.

Softly he spoke out, "There was a reason why my son loved this barn."

Sam cocked an ear and followed after him wiping away the weak show of tears, mentally preparing himself for another lecture. He watched the farmer suddenly clam up and go over to a large canvas covered shape, watching with a frown as he tore the dark canvas back to reveal a lovingly restored old Ford Mustang.

Dave took a deep breath and turned to the emotionally fragile boy. "Michael fixed this up from scratch. It had been rotting in the fields for the last twenty years ever since my uncle Freddie dumped it there. It really became his obsession to fix up the summer before he died."

"Its beautiful," answered Sam as his eyes washed over it the old car, regretting immediately that Dean wasn't here to see and appreciate such a classic. This really was something his brother could appreciate and swoon over and talk shop with the oldest Huffman better than he ever could. Cars were always something his brother could talk the hindlegs off. It was a passion he and dad shared in that he had never had a chance to know.

Nodding Dave continued not noticing the paleness on Sam's face. "Listen Sam, and I tell you now that the word 'no' is not an option. I've spoken it over with the wife and with Greg and we want you to take it."

For a man whose future depended on his ability to speak eloquently with equal measures of intelligence at Stanford and the world to come words and thought now failed Sam completely. "Huh?"

Dave for his part had overheard the boy talking about his plans with Greg two evenings back and it had scared the hell out of him. No way was he going to allow this kid to hustle pool in some seedy bar to get the cash together for a ride. Not when they had this old car sitting here idly going nowhere fast.

Amused at the stunned look on the boy's face Dave added, "Listen my wife would go out of her head with worry if she knew how you intended to get to California. For my sake and hers take the car and get to California in one piece. If you have to flip burgers for a while at least it will be safer than hustling some scary assed bikers out of their cash. You get my drift here son?"

"I can't take this sir. I just can't. This is just too much," Sam shook his head in denial fearful of fresh tears readying to spill as such a selfless act. His heart hammered and his mind screamed a question. 'Why?' Why would these kind people want to give him this when his own father didn't think he deserved such a gift.

He didn't deserve this he told himself numbly. He couldn't take what they were offering him so freely. It just felt wrong.

As he stumbled away from the car, struggling to keep the tears from falling all over again he was stilled as a firm hand gripped his arm. "If you don't take this then I will have to tell Connie of your plans and believe me she will be mightily pissed Sam Winchester. And you know that you really do not want that woman pissed with you. Ever. Take the car son and give me back the luxury of sleep at night. Or she will be stalking every bar from Idaho to California in your wake."

Realising that this was the way of forcing him to accept this offer of a car Sam nodded mutely before the realisation hit him. Hard. He Sam Winchester had his own wheels. California was really doable now under his own steam and the happy grin on his face said it all to Dave Huffman as he confessed. "Oh my god this is so awesome."

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

With his duffle bag packed Sam took one last look around the room he had shared with Greg this last week. He had grown to know the younger boy a little better and although the boy was a full blown jock through and through they had managed to find a common ground in their love of rock music. What Mrs Huffman thought of the continued scream of Black Sabbath and its like thumping down through the ceiling each day she returned from work he would never know because the woman always kept her cool. Ignoring the noise until supper was ready and relative peace followed.

Leaving the room he sighed softly. The Huffman's had shown him a side of family life he had never know existed before and he couldn't help but wonder if this was the sort of family he might have had if his mom hadn't died and his father hadn't become the hunter he was now? Just how different would his older brother be without the burden on his too young shoulders to look after his sorry ass.

With him gone now may be Dean might feel that burden lifting again, letting him be the man he was supposed to be other than the surrogate parent he had always been forced to adopt.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs the whole family were waiting for him and he knew this was not going to be an easy parting. Swallowing back his emotions he tried to keep his face neutral, but already Ronnie had started to cry and he could see that Mrs Huffman wasn't far behind her.

This leaving was so far removed from his last departure with his own family that he felt himself floundering under the weight of warmth they clearly displayed for him.

Dad and his brother had let him go without a word and that he could understand but how the Huffman's were reacting to his leaving them just left him totally confused. He really didn't deserve their attention like this.

Struggling to find the necessary words of thanks to this most extraordinary family his voice cracked and totally failed him so that he was left standing at the bottom of the stairs blinking back his tears. It really felt like leaving Dean all over again.

Dave reached across and gave him a large manly hug and Sam unfamiliar at receiving such a natural touch stilled in his arms. His own dad hadn't touched him like this in an age and he didn't remember just how he was expected to respond. Was he supposed to hug him in return? Say something intelligent. Do something?

As if reading his confusion Connie pulled him away from her husband arms and hugged him tightly to her, not wanting to let this young man go so easily from her life, "You best ring me every week Sam or write me to let me know how things are going. You promise me?"

"Yes I promise, I really do," whispered Sam against her cheek and hugged her back in return, wondering if this was what all mothers were like. Pulling awkwardly away from her he nodded over to Greg who gave him a half smile in return. Their need for words negated by a shared look.

It was Ronnie that tore his heart apart next, clinging to his legs, pleading for him to stay. He bent down to speak to her but she flung around his neck and cried hotly on his collar. "Don't go Sam. I think you'd make a lovely pig farmer. I can show you what to do."

"You'll be a world famous ballerina one day Veronica Huffman and I will be in the first row watching you. That I promise."

"Really Sam? You think I can do that?" asked the little girl with tears still spilling down her face suddenly feeling a level of confidence reasserting itself in her again.

"Yep honey. I do. You can do anything. Anything at all."

With a small kiss on her cheek brushing back his own tears before she could see them he handed her over purposely to Greg. "You best let your big brother look after you till then, you hear me kiddo?"

Greg coughed his surprise at being handing his little sister, and couldn't help feel a flutter of need inside him when she hugged him tightly. It was a need they both had that had to be met. Nodding his understand Greg threw a look at the departing man and said in reassurance for them all. "I'll look after her man. No worries. The little brat is always safe. Here."

As he left the Huffman's farm Sam realised for the longest time in his short life that good actually did out weight the bad at times.

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

At the Nurses station the monitors bleeped, the air felt musty and the coffee was lukewarm. All in all a typical a night shift for the Ortho nursing team.

Frank the only male nurse on the ward hurried up to the station though, breaking the normal quiet rhythm of the night. "Hey Tally that guy in bed five looks like he's developed a DVT. His breath sounds are compromised and thready. Best get Dr Morton prepped and theatres warmed up. This is gonna be a long night."

"Goddam Dean Robinson," whispered Tallulah Clementine to herself scared for her feisty patient, "Don't you dare do this."

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

**TBC **

_Sorry, I know a long chapter. I was tempted to spilt it halfway through but didn't have the heart! Anyways that road-trip for Sam is finally well and truly on its way and the dramas on every level continues! Rozzy. _


	10. Chapter 10

_**The disclaimers apply about owing nothing Supernatural.**_

_Again as before all mistakes are very much mine – I had a wonderful offer of beta and bless her for willing to take on such a horrid task and will be hopefully be wearing down her defences in future chapters to come. However with this chapter I literally had only a half hour to publish this chapter or be damned (RL being a frigging bitch) so I'm flinging this out unbetaed, no doubt horribly mutilated in places with strangalised English. Rozzy._

* * *

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 10 – Breath away.**

The radio was one of the few things that Michael hadn't fixed and Sam was all hummed out as he raced away from Indiana and it felt decidedly odd driving down an empty highway with only his own inner thoughts for company.

This unnatural silence had never been an option in the impala as Dean always drove and he rode shotgun with the blare of rock music riding along with them. Now he could appreciate that driving with his big brother had never been boring, never ever quiet and never so alone as this ride was.

So alone could admit to himself just how much he missed having Dean around as the entertainment factor of his smart mouth could always be relied onto provide an interesting journey. Sure the jerk could be a real pain in the ass at times but right now he would tear off his right arm to have him sitting in the car besides him bitching and sniping away at him. Anything to stop the frigging boredom.

As he left the welcome to Indiana sign behind him Sam realised that he was more than a little tired. Even though he had managed to convince Connie Huffman otherwise he knew he was still not one hundred percent and his body was starting to rebel with a litany of aches and cramps for last fifty mile.

As the mustang drove easily into Illinois his head had started to thump, threatening the mother of all headaches if he didn't take a break soon. Hell even his hands were starting to betray their need for rest trembling slightly as he gripped the steering wheel.

Going off on this road trip had sounded fun in principal but after a long afternoon of constant driving he wondered just how long it was going to take him to get to California before the boredom factor won out. Or before he drove himself insane with the 'what ifs' and 'what might have been' that swirling around in his head about is family.

Grimacing at how pathetic he sounded even in his own head he rolled down the window letting the cool night air fan his face and he laughed softly appreciating the irony of it all.

For years he had nagged his brother to let him drive the impala but only on the odd occasion when either his brother had been too hurt or to drunk to drive to notice was he able to snag the keys. Now here he was driving his own car. A beauty of a car that his brother would be proud to be seen in and damn it to hell he wasn't around to appreciate it much less tease him about it.

Rubbing his tired eyes he yawned and let the chill of the night air fill his lungs and bring him back to full alert. He really needed to find a place for a pit stop soon, as it would be more than a little ungrateful of him if he wrapped this gift around a tree or put her in a ditch before one day was up.

And wouldn't that just prove Dean's theory right once and for all he smirked to himself. That he being the older brother had inherited all the cool Winchester genes leaving him with only the ability to be a total geek for the rest of his life.

'No big brother, not any more,' he told himself smiling broadly, 'Because with a ride like this I am already one foot off the bottom of the ladder of geektude.'

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Nurse Clementine paged the surgical team and hurried quickly back to bed five and knew straight away her colleague had been right. The Robinson boy looked grey struggling to draw a breath, his fists clenching and unclenching on the white bed sheet as he tried to keep the panic away.

Gone was the calculated smirk she had grown to appreciate these past five days and its place was a look akin to fear as the ability to breathe deserted him.

The father looked equally afraid and his head had snapped up at her approach, "What the hell is happening here woman? He goes from breathing easy one moment to struggling just to draw a fucking breath the next."

The nurse lifted an eyebrow and bit back a response knowing his harsh tone was generated by concern for his son. Still it was all now just a little clearer just who the younger man had inherited his acid tongue from. Pushing past the tall man she checked her patient's vitals and clucked her tongue disapprovingly, "I knew you'd be a handful kiddo, but this is just not playing fair."

"Will you for the love of Christ tell what the hell is happening to my boy?" demanded John again, holding on to the edge of the bed as he looked down at his son willing him to be alright. For the last few days his son seemed to be have been doing so well, the pain had been brought under control and hell even the usual all encompassing smirk was back on his face.

Pulling an oxygen mask over Dean's face and whispering a few words of reassurance the nurse then turned briefly back to the father. "Mr Robinson the doctors will be here shortly and they'll be able to tell you in greater detail about what's going on with your son. But it looks like a DVT, a known complication from the type of injury and surgery your son has gone through."

"A what?" growled John his mind tripping over the three letters and finding nothing.

"Deep vein thrombosis, a blood clot, Mr Robinson. It might have moved up from his leg and lodged in a lung by the sounds of things. Your son may have unfortunately have a developed a pulmonary embolism. They can treat this with drug therapy, a clot buster of sorts, or maybe radiological guided treatment."

"But he'll be okay, right? They'll fix this. Yes?" John could hardly breathe himself with worry now not really absorbing all of what the nurse was telling him. One minute his boy was talking to him enthusiastically about a hunt they were planning on his discharge when suddenly it looked like he was drowning, unable to suck in the most basic of needs, air.

Nurse Clementine nodded but was unable to meet his eye and was thankful she wouldn't have to admit the truth, that men as fit as his son had died despite all the medical advances they had at their disposal, as Dr Moorson and a bunch of other white coats suddenly filled the room.

Watching the team take charge she took a step backwards, aware that the young man was strong and that he'd fight this, but mentally she was crossing her fingers as an additional support.

Looking at the readouts Dr Moorson shook his head, "It looks like he's thrown a P.E. Lets start him on Streptavidin and get him back to Imaging. Page Dr Gulteri and let him know we're on our way down."

Throwing a look at his father Dr Moorson added quickly, "Don't worry sir, this is treatable. He's in good hands."

Dean closed his eyes losing the battle to draw a breath, his lips tingeing blue, and John called after him as he was wheeled hurriedly away. "You hear that son, you'll be okay, You will be okay."

It was a mantra that he ran over and over in his head as he raced after them, sticking by his son's side until he was made to forcibly made to wait out in the cold grey corridor that led to the imaging suite. His face was set hard but his eyes were glittering with unshed tears, his lips moving whispering his prayer out loud. "You'll be okay, son. You have to be."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam moved stiffly as his muscles had seized after the long car drive and every ache and pain that he had thought gone had resurfaced as a reminder that playing ghostbuster had its consequences.

After leaving the highway he found himself on the outskirts of a town whose name he hadn't bother to notice and parked up outside a small shabby diner as the need to refuel with some food and coffee was too much of a lure for him to pass by.

Pushing back his long hair away from his eyes he gave the diner a quick assessing look and left the car smirking at the ill lit sign that had once read 'Darlene's Roadside diner' but now with half the neon bulbs blown all that was left lit up was the fractured 'Arlene's de d….'

'Maybe the food did you in?' he muttered to himself wondering on the proprietor's status as the sour waft of old grease and bad coffee hit him as he opened the door.

Still not used to his sudden extra height, shooting up three inches in as many months, it wasn't until the crown of his touched the lintel that he was forced to duck under the low doorway.

Trying not to blush on his inelegant entrance at almost smacking his head he quickly procured a small booth to hideaway in ignoring the odd glance thrown his way by some of the other customers.

Wearily he settled into the plastic chair eyeing the faded menu suspiciously though the rumble in his belly betrayed his best intentions of grabbing just a coffee and making his escape. Looking at the counter he spied a selection of pies and cakes and the thought of an overdose of sugar swallowed down by a hot coffee was just too much to resist.

A young waitress headed over to him, an indifferent look on her face, her pen clicking and unclicking as she sidled up to him to take his order her eyes anywhere but on him. "What can I get you mister?"

"A coffee and a piece of hot pie with ice-cream would be nice." Always polite Sam cringed at the sound of his voice. Dean would have thrown him his well-patented scowl of disapproval and kicked him under the table for sounding so lame. Glancing up through the heavy spill of hair hanging over his eyes he offered a small grimace and he couldn't help from adding, "Please."

The waitress on hearing the surprisingly soft but deep voice threw a quick look down and was instantly charmed, the disinterested look vanishing on taking in the appearance of the boy in front of her and appreciating what she saw. "Sure thing. Any thing you want."

By the time he had finished his first cup of coffee and half of a truly diabetes inducing peach pie he had learnt all about the waitress Melanie, how her second year in college had really sucked especially not helped because of her break up with her ex-boyfriend Alf who had taken up with the town slut, to where to look for an easy cash paying job and best still where the nearest and best bars were at.

Melanie Gordon was happily for Sam a veritable mine of information. Information he could make use of he hoped.

Despite what he promised Mr Huffman having less than forty dollars in his pocket wasn't going to feed him for long never mind the fact that he now had a major gas-guzzler to support. He needed ready cash now, and the chance of being able to pay for a soft bed was also another great motivator.

As Sam finished the remainder of the pie and swallowed down a second cup of coffee he found himself cornered as the young waitress popped herself down next to him. Throwing him a knowing look she asked, "So you say your gonna stay in town for awhile to get some readies, and that means you need to know all the right places to hit"

"I do?" asked Sam warily.

Melanie beamed right back up at him nodding her head. She had already after watching him take his first bite of pie decided that she liked this lanky kid and didn't mind showing it. "Sure you do. So the thing is that I'm meeting up with a bunch of my college mates at Oscar's in ten, wanna come along?"

Frowning he hesitated for a moment, unable hide the pink blush on his cheeks at being so clearly picked up like this. Not for the first time he wished he had Dean's ability to play it cool.

Melanie noticing his hesitation and sudden shyness cajoled him into saying yes. "Come on Sam. If you're gonna hang around this place for a while this would be a good chance to get to know the locals. Besides it half price night at Oscars. You're guaranteed to have a good time. I promise."

Seeing the expectant look on the girl's face Sam slowly nodded his agreement. A part of him knew he really should keep as low as possible profile if he was going to hustle a few games, but then again he told himself having someone in tow that knew the scene might prove to be an advantage.

Still the last thing he wanted was to get into more trouble as Dave Huffman's warning words about bikers and the dangers of hustling still rang too loudly in his ears not to feel a pang of guilt at what he was planning to do. This once he just had to make certain that he kept his wits about him and played it slow and easy. He already had enough resolving bruises not to want to add any more to them.

"Okay," he finally agreed, throwing her a thankful nod, "Sounds like fun."

Melanie glad on snaring him so easily for the night quickly added before he could change his mind. "Great my shift just finished so I'll just get out my uniform and meet back you back here in five."

As she sashayed away to change Melanie knew that her girlfriends would go crazy when they saw her walk into the bar with him. Secretly she was hoping her ex was there too as one look of her with this gorgeous boy he'd see green. Pea fucking green with envy she hoped. That would teach the stupid bastard to dump her for the likes of that fat tart Eileen.

After he had paid the bill Sam hung outside resting against the hood of the mustang waiting for his escort to the livelier parts of town to emerge. Eyes widening in surprise his mouth fell slightly open as she reappeared looking very different now out of her pink nylon uniform.

Melanie wore a pair of dark jeans, strappy slip-ons and a figure hugging sweater, giving her curves in all the right places. Her dark blond hair was now hanging freely down to her shoulders and with the addition of red lipstick and mascara it all helped to transform her from dowdy humdrum to pleasantly attractive.

Quickly snapping his mouth shut again afraid that he really was revealing his dork status his brother had endowed on him he stood up, still easily a head and half taller than he and grinned openly in appreciation.

As he opened the passenger door for the older girl he could feel that the night was looking decidedly more than promising now, and with it all his aches and pains he had when he walked into the Diner were now completely forgotten.

Her perfume wafted up to him as he shut the car door and it instantly reminded him of the one Kelly always wore. Chewing his bottom lip he walked around to the driver's side realisingly guiltily that he had neglected to ring his friend since his abrupt departure from Michigan.

As he started up the engine and half listened to Melanie's direction on how to get to Oscar's bar he told himself that it was time to stop being so insular.

In the next few days he told himself he would have to make a few phone calls as not everybody wanted his sorry ass permanently out of their lives he hoped. Old friends, no matter how far away they were, were still that to him – friends. Kelly had really been there for him since his move to Michigan and really hoped she would still want to be one of them.

Slowly a big fat grin split his face as his thoughts returned to the present. Here he was a no-nothing scrawny eighteen year old geek who within the space of an hour of drifting into town had a pretty girl sitting in his car and with the chance to make some easy money more than a possibility. Life was definitely looking brighter.

More importantly Dean would be so proud of him, he told himself wryly, as the Winchester pulling genes hadn't totally skipped past him after all it seemed.

Casting a sideways at the girl sitting besides him he smiled afresh. Melanie may be a few years older than him but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy her company. 'Yep,' he told himself firmly, 'Things really are starting to look up.'

In fact his whole life seemed to be getting back on track and if his luck kept up like this he might even chance calling Dean in a week or two to test how the waters lay. Perhaps by then his angry older brother he had left back in Michigan might have mellowed out just enough now to take his call.

Grinning as hope returned he left out a relaxed sigh, daring to believe that he might just be able to get his brother to speak to him again.

Seeing him smile to himself as he drove down Main Street Melanie felt a little less awkward on picking the boy up like she had.

She never done such a thing before, always being chased rather than doing the chasing, but this one was too cute to pass up. Even after just a few minutes of talking to him she somehow felt that he was safe. Certainly not like some of the ratty little perverts that seemed to make up half the male college population at times.

The bar she took him to was a generic copy of all the small town bars he had seen his brother go into over the years and then stumble out of later either with a drink in one hand and a pretty girl on the other, or a fist full of cash and a cocky smile. Or maybe sometimes all three when he was really lucky.

Oscar's was in desperate need of a makeover, the dark wooden façade bearing one fadedt neon sign.

When Sam stepped inside the bar following after a clearly excited Melanie his eyes tried to adapt to the poor lighting instantly baulking against the acrid tang of cigarette smoke and beer wrapped instantly around him making his eyes smart and his throat dry.

Sniffing back his dislike of the cloying atmosphere he weaved his way around the crowded bar, using his height as an advantage, all the while keeping his head ducked down to let the spill of his shaggy hair cover his youthful face so that he was not challenged by the bar staff.

Melanie had taken his hand territorially as a few girls looked over their way and was firmly pulling him after her to the back of the bar, where a group of her friends friend sat around sporting beers. Some were more glassy eyed than others and no doubt would be finding themselves hugging the toilet bowel later if they kept up guzzling back the cheap booze so quickly. Half price beer was always too much of a good thing to pass up on it seemed.

"Who's the hottie you've got in tow girlfriend?" called out one small dark haired girl to Melanie getting eagerly to her feet to run her eyes up and down the tall stranger and liking what she saw.

Waving her hand around at the loose assembled crowd of twenty something aged friends Melanie beamed happily, "This here is Sam. He's new to town and I promised we'd show him a good time tonight."

Giggling the dark haired girl wrapped herself around Melanie and threw her friend a knowing wink. "Don't you mean you'll be showing him a good time. Or will that be both of you showing each other a good time."

"Damn it girl I can always trust you to have your thoughts firmly in the gutter," spat back Melanie disengaging herself from her friend's arms and moving back to Sam who really did look embarrassed by the six pairs of eyes assessing him.

Carly for her part tried to straighten up and shook her head laughing softly, "Oh come on Mel you walk in with a cutie like him on your arm and you don't think Neanderthal Alf ain't gonna notice. He's way prettier than the ugly ex of yours that's for sure. Way to go girlfriend."

A chorus of laughs went up around them as her friends saw Melanie squirm at the suggestion and Sam muttered under his breath. "God someone please shoot me. Now."

Melanie protectively stood in front of Sam sensing he was about to bolt. "Look you guys play nice." Nodding over to a smaller blonde haired boy sitting a little unsteadily on a stool she demanded, "Brian go get us a couple of beers."

"Sure your Queen Melanie, you want nuts with that too, or are you saving them for later? Or have you already had them? taunted back the blonde guy throwing a knowing look over the taller boy that now scowled darkly back down at him.

Brian's mouth went a little dry under the intense glare as the kid looked like he knew how to handle himself. Grunting he moved a little uncomfortably on his stool waiting for the fallout. It wouldn't be the first time someone had wanted to knock his block off for his inability to keep his runaway mouth under control. It was just so unfair that all of them had to be so much bigger than he was and this kid was near to being a freaking giant.

It had been a long boring shift in the diner and her patience was worn more than a little thin so Melanie reached out and smacked Brian on the back of the head for the lewd remark and hissed in warning. "You best get them San Miguel fast sweet lips or I might have to tell your momma just who you've been doing the naughty with since spring break."

Blushing furiously, knowing when to back down when Mel got angry like this, Brian jumped off the stool and threw his friend a small shrug of defeat. "Two San Miguel it is then your majesty."

Melanie's face softened and she called after him, "Thanks bros, I'll settle up with you later."

As Brian walked up to the bar he smiled to himself in relief. At least he hadn't had his face pounded on. Yet. Best watch his mouth and slow down on the beer he told himself with the addition of this new guy to the mix.

Sure he knew that Mel may be a tough cookie but it was still up to him to make sure that this Sam character wasn't like all the other skanky dudes that she seemed to hook up with. He didn't want his best friend hurt again like she had been with that two timing loser Alf.

The kid may be a good head taller than he was but he could still stand on a box and punch his lights out if he hurt his friend. He hoped.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean struggled to open his eyes. They felt gritty, almost glued together from too long a sleep. A deep voice commanded him awake before demanding his complete attention and he whispered in response as he finally focused on his father. "Dad? What happened? Did the old witch Tally try do me in after all like she threatened?"

John couldn't help but snort out loud, especially as Nurse Clementine stood by his bed fiddling with his I.V. and he was rewarded with a daggers look that made him wince in discomfort. She was too damned feisty to want to mess with at times.

Finding his voice John smoothly rode over his son's accusation,, "No son, you had a bit of a scare, a blood clot, but you're okay now. They got you all sorted out. Right ma'am?"

Patting Dean's arm Nurse Clementine huffed. "Well if you can trust anything that comes out of this old witch's mouth yes you're doing fine now. I think yout father suffered more than you did with the not knowing and all."

Throwing his dad a worried glance Dean struggled to sit up but firm hand's kept him lying flat his voice husky with concern. "Dad you okay?"

"Sure son, just don't scare me like that. Not ever again. I've got too many grey hairs to count as it is." He leaned in and squeezed his son's hand before drawing him a glass of water.

"How long have I been out?" asked Dean before taking a few sips of tepid water offered to him easing away the dryness in his throat.

Studying his dad carefully he watched him stand and stretch, trying to ease out a knot in his shoulders before answering. "Just a day son."

Still trying to keep her patient calm under her guidance Nurse Clementine looked Dean firmly in the eye. "If you promise to behave I'll raise the bed for you slightly, but as I said before you still got a long haul ahead of you. Your leg is healing well, just don't fight it and let things progress naturally or you'll undo all the doctors work here."

"Yeah, yeah, heard the lecture read the frigging booklet," sniped back Dean but let himself be calmed by her firm approach. He was just glad to be able to breathe again. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but that had been so damn scary, not being able to draw in air.

Turing his attention back to his dad he raised his eyebrow in disbelief, "Shit a whole damn day, must have been some strong meds to keep me under like that for so long."

"Tell me about it son. Those twenty four hours seemed to stretch on forever."

Dean eyes searched beyond his father's broad frame, hoping expectantly that it wasn't only the three of them in the room before his head fell back to the pillow dejectedly, "No Sammy then? Did he even call?"

"No son. I'm sorry." John couldn't look at him or meet his gaze, knowing the hurt he'd see there.

Nurse Clementine sensing they needed some time alone quickly finished up writing in the chart and threw Dean a warning look that said 'behave or else' before she left.

John watched the plump nurse leave and his stomach lurched. This last day just sitting and waiting for Dean to wake up had left a war waging in his heart. The urge to find his baby boy and drag him back to his brother's side was like a physical need now. But he just couldn't just up and leave one son to hunt down the other.

For a supposedly smart man he had been shockingly dumb in telling too many lies. How on earth could he confess to his oldest child that his little brother didn't know a damn thing about him being in hospital, because no one had been able to tell him what had happened.

Dean would freak out on hearing this and no doubt undo all the healing to his leg. Hell he'd go fucking ballistic at him and then after that the dark rot of fear would set in on realising that his brother was out there alone. Unprotected.

All he knew now was whatever resentment Dean might be harbouring at Sam leaving him would mutate in true hate for the lies he had dared to tell him since. So the lies stayed firmly in place and it was easy to convince himself that this was really for the best as Dean had to get better first.

Sitting back on the bed John shook his head finally and looked at his oldest child to confess. "I'm really sorry son."

Dean sucked in an angry breath, battling to keep the threat of tears under control. The fact that he had been hoping that his brother might show now only been seen as a weakness he had to conquer. "What the hell have you got to be sorry about dad? Sam's made his choice clear now hasn't he? He left and he doesn't intend to come back. Not for anything or anybody."

_Not for me. Why not me Sam? What did I do so wrong that you'd hate me this much? Do you really hate me this much for not being for you this past year. I thought we'd have each other's back no matter what? Guess I was stupid to believe that, hey little brother?_

"Please Dean. Just give it some time, things are just screwed up right now with Sammy…." demonstrated John softly with his boy. Dean hating his brother like this was going to be so hard to fix later he knew as once his oldest got something fixed in his head it was hard to shift.

Dean though wasn't ready to be placated and spat out, "Fuck it dad, stop making excuses for the ungrateful brat. I've got a whole month of nothing but time to look forward to and my little shit of a brother couldn't even spare me a passing thought, not even to ring me or leave a message."

"Dean, stop it," interjected John trying to calm him down before words were said that couldn't be taken back. Just like the words he had said to Sam before he forced him to leave them both.

Too angry now to stop Dean pulled himself forwards and stabbed a finger at his dad. "No, don't you see? Thanks to you I know the truth about how little he thinks of me, his family. Its time, just like you said, to wash our hands of the selfish bastard once and for all. California and Jennings can keep his boney ass from now on. We don't need him anymore. You hear me dad, we don't need him."

On seeing his son's rage and feelings of total betrayal John got up quickly and made some weak excuse to leave the room suddenly too afraid that the truth would spill out of his mouth and further damage would be done that would be irreparable.

Marching hurriedly down the corridor to the stairwell exit he managed to make it there before a howl of grief escaped and he sunk to his knees on the cold concrete floor cradling his head in his hands letting the tears fall freely now. "God forgive me boys, please sons I really am sorry."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

As Melanie hung by his side Sam managed to work his boyish innocence to his advantage sliding into a poker game with enough of a 'gee whiz' air about him to make the half drunk players around the table not even realised that they'd been played until the final turn of the cards.

Collectively the other players watched the coltish boy scoop up his winnings with a deep dimpled grin of satisfaction into his pockets, muttering his thanks before he left and for a moment five other pairs of eyes met across the table wondering just how the hell this had happened.

A grey haired veteran of the bar banged down his half full bottle of beer and a belly laugh erupted out of his mouth. "That kid sure has a pair of stones. He screwed us good and proper."

What could have turned ugly really fast quickly dissolved into few rumbling grouches of discontent and open amazement that he had the skill to play them like that.

Suddenly a waitress appeared before the table with another round of drinks. Questioning who had bought the beers the waitress nodded over to the bar where Sam smiled sweetly back at them.

"What did I say guys? He's got stones the size of freaking cannon balls," howled the grey haired man in amusement as they accepted the kid's offered apology by grabbing at the beer and laughing collectively. It wasn't every day that this grizzled group of veterans got fleeced by some kid who looked barely able to drive. This one they could let ride, for tonight at least.

As Sam walked out of the bar, decidedly unbattered and with enough money to tide him over till he got some other work, he felt suddenly so buzzed he really did feel on a high. Was this how Dean felt at times he wondered? The lead up to the prize at the end was as sweet as the actual winning.

Clapping her hands in delight Melanie spun out on to the sidewalk totally in awe at how the kid had managed to beat all the regular players at the table. She had watched enough poker games with her dad and brothers to know just how intense it could be at times. Sam had been so calm he could have almost been sleeping walking through the game.

Best still was that Alf had watched it all too, his face purpling as he watched Sam scoop up his winnings. His sour expression was so worth the wait, especially on seeing that Eileen had already moved on to her latest victim draping herself all over the idiot at the other end of the bar.

Now the shoe was on the other foot she couldn't help but sneer mockingly back at him when he stormed away at the end of the game as she hugged Sam tightly.

As she danced outside Oscars she realised that she had finally gotten over the all controlling Alf. This was truly something to celebrate and she grabbed hold of Sam and pulled his startled head down to plant a long hard kiss onto his lips.

Sam could only do one thing in return as Dean hadn't raised him to be a fool and knock back a pretty girl's kiss. Cradling her tighter to him he leant into her and let her steal his breath away.

Melanie's friends looked at each and giggled at the sight, falling into other in a loose supportive embrace as the effects of the cold air and too many beers took hold.

Slurring her words Carly wagged her finger at the locked together couple and nodded at Brian seriously happy for her friend. The kid was cute. "That's ten bucks you owe me. She snogged him first. Told you she would. What a slut."

Grumbling Brian fumbled around in his pocket and a crumpled note was pressed into dark haired girl's waiting palm throwing his best friend a cheesy smile. "Cradle snatcher. She should be ashamed of herself."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Tallulah Clementine walked back on to the ward, ignoring the strangled cry of surprise from Carl at the Nurses station, high heals clicking loud on the linoleum flooring and her too long red evening dress dragging behind her. A large pizza box held tight against one hip. It was her night off but here she was dressed up so differently Carl felt his eyes readying to bug out of his head.

As she approached the male nurse she gave her co-worker a withering look. "Next time you'd better lie to the rotten son of a bitch Carl or I'll swear I'll have you cleaning out bedpans personally. For a month."

"Sorry Tally. I didn't know. How was I supposed to?"

"If that devious little shit ever asks you to do anything ever again you check with me first. Clear?"

Struggling not to collapse into a fit of giggles Carl mutely nodded and watched her storm into the kid's room.

With the pizza still planted firmly against one round hip, her heavy breasts pushed up high, she threw Dean a wicked look as she stood at the foot of the bed. "You may have won the last game Dean Robinson but I'll get the next one. You mark my words."

"Oh my god it's the fucking reincarnation of Mae West. Where's the freaking rock salt when you need it," smirked back Dean in disbelief, his green eyes bright with delight as snatched from her the offered pizza. "Double pepperoni, hmmm. Real food at last."

For all his baiting, for all his smart mouth remarks and goading, he really hadn't thought she had the guts to meet her end of the bet. Yet here she was looking for the all the world like some turn of the century madam from a brothel and with a smile of defiance on her made up face that it made laughter sing through out him.

As he stuffed his mouth with a still piping hot slice of piece of pizza he eyed the woman appreciatively and goddammit didn't he know that he had grown to love this awful woman.

Loved her totally from her podgy short frame, to her wrinkles and too bottle blond hair.

Adored Tallulah Clementine in way he hadn't loved someone new in his life for a long time, because her mouth was just as foul as his own, her mind equally as devious and when push come to shove she managed to scare the bejeezers even out of his dad with just a look.

Yep he loved this feisty evil tongued old broad like no other.

As for Tally she had given into her liking for the young man and despite her reluctance to get emotionally involved with her patients only to find herself sitting with him in the quiet hours of the night playing poker and feeling a connection to his troubled soul that kept him constantly in her thoughts.

Since recovering from his latest scare Dean had sunk into a slight depression again and it had only been their constant bickering banter that seemed to have kept his spirits from flagging further.

Slowly he started to return to the smart mouthed cynical monster of before and she found herself matching his sullenness with her own considerably vocal skills of being an utter bitch when needed.

It was how their true friendship developed and by the third week of his incarceration in the 'Demon bitch from hell's ward' as he liked to call it Dean found himself healing faster than expected and actively enjoying his exchanges with 'Mad Bad Tally.'

Soon though the sarcastic comments turned into a need to best each other and realising that they both loved poker the fun really started. Small little gambits at first but as the days progressed the need for something bigger, brasher, more high staked became necessary. Just to keep that buzz going and the healing progressing, so they both kept reminding themselves.

So that is how Tallulah Clementine found herself looking like some badly done up drag queen after losing the last game to the incorrigible young man in room two. Though now she could believe as she watched his cocky grin that despite being trussed up on his bed with counterweights and wires he had scuttled out of bed last night, counted the number of bed pans stacked up in the sluice room, and bloody cheated.

A bet was a bet, Dean had told her, and now she was paying up. Just wait until she won the next game she told herself with an evil grin sneering her top lip upwards. Then she'd paint his cast and toe nails a bright shade of fuchsia and get the same coloured girly extensions put in his hair.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

John had been gone from Dean's side for the last four days trying to track down a lead on Sam but had come back to the city, to his son's beside still frighteningly empty handed. Empty in parts because of his own stupid temper. And not one word of a confession came out of his mouth at seeing the welcome glint in his oldest eyes on his return.

"Good hunt dad?" was all he was asked and weakly he nodded, again adding to his collective lie.

Caleb earlier in the week had managed to find out that his youngest son had been admitted to a county hospital on the rural outskirts of Indiana almost two weeks ago. Admitted with a concussion, battered ribs and other injuries by some farmer called Huffman only then for him to totally disappear off the face of the earth again.

On hearing the news second hand from Jim Murphy his heart had missed more than a couple of beats. His baby boy had been hurt and not once had he tried to let his family know. That kid had too much pride for his own good at times it seemed as this was when he should have realised that he needed his family the most. Maybe he wondered fearfully that he really had convinced his youngest that he really had no family to turn to anymore.

He was a father near to breaking point and he had driven all the way back to Indiana like a madman, reaching the large farmhouse with a fiery need in his belly to get his boy back. Safe and well.

Slamming the truck door shut with a loud bang he walked up to the front door and banged loudly three times. A boy a few years younger than Sam opened the door and eyed him suspiciously and he sucked in the need to grab him physically and demand to know where his son was.

"What do you want mister? demanded Greg, keeping the door only half open, readying to shut it if the dark haired man proved threatening. Which looked very likely. He was one scary looking dude sporting a grizzled week old beard and a fire in his eyes that spoke trouble.

Gruffly looking beyond the boy searching for signs of his boy he growled out, "I want my son. Sam Winchester."

Greg paused, trying not to show how frightened he actually was of this powerful built man who looked ready to push past him and raise havoc at any second. "He's not here Mister. He took off weeks ago. If you were any sort of dad you would have known that anyways. Sam's made a lucky escape so I hear."

Greg may have hated Sam at first but after what had happened with Michael he had grown to respect him and then finally like him. He had heard enough from overhearing his parent's speak about his circumstances to feel only anger to the arrogant man standing in front of him now.

Seeing the boys blue eyes flicker up in him dislike and readying to slam the door in his face John pushed his foot into the gap and stopped the door from being shut.

Pushing past the resisting teenager with ease he snapped a warning. "Best watch your mouth boy. Now tell me where my son is before I really lose my temper and tan your sorry behind."

"You get away the hell away from son," shouted out voice in a warning, cocking a shotgun to the back of John's head. "

Turning slowly John looked down the grey barrel and frowned at the woman readying to blow his skull apart and loosely raised his hands in apology and backed away. A middle-aged woman with a rickety old gun pointed between his eyes was as scary as any poltergeist he had faced off against before.

"Just who the hell do you think your are coming into my house and threatening my child like that?" demanded Connie Huffman hotly.

Already the boiling anger that had propelled him past the young boy had evaporated and he shook his head in an apology. "I'm sorry. Truly sorry Mrs Huffman if I got carried away. Its just that I really need to see my son."

Connie kept the shotgun firmly sighted on the dark haired man and shook her head not trusting him one bit, realising that what Sam had said in warning about his father might just well be true. "Get out of my house before I'm forced to use this."

"But what about my son?" demanded John slowly stepping back to the door, not sure just how good a control she had over the trigger on the old gun.

Connie waved him on and watched with relief as he stepped back outside, beckoning with a nod of her head to get Greg behind her. "He left for California weeks ago and that's all I'm going to tell a bully like you. He's safe. Safe away from you by the looks of things. Now git."

"No he's not Mrs Huffman. He needs his family." scowled back John shaking his head in angry denial.

The woman had no idea of the sort of trouble Sam could attract to himself. No idea of all the dark things that might want his boy. All he wanted to see his son and try and persuade him to come back with him to Detroit of that was not possible then get him to California, get him to Jennings and then finally he could let Dean know the truth.

Connie could feel the earlier bravado deserting her, her knees readying to buckle as Sam's father stared her down. Just how this frightening control freak had managed to raise such a sweet boy was beyond all reasoning.

Huffing her disbelief she tried to her keep in check the fear from the man in front of her, and steadied the heavy weight of the gun in her hands. "You chucked out that poor boy for daring to get a full ride to college and made him so afraid of you that he wouldn't let us call you to let him know he'd been hurt. By my book you are not a normal parent -not by a long chalk."

"No- don't you dare tell me about what my son knows to be true," argued John. "I'm his father. I deserve to know what's been happening with him."

Connie stabbed the shotgun at him again shouting heatedly, "You bastard, you deserve nothing, Just who in the hell do you think you are barging into my home to threaten my son and think that I'll tell you anything about that poor lad of yours?"

"Oh for Christ sake what will it take for you to understand? Sam really needs to come home," snapped back John curtly, getting tired of being on the receiving end of a lecture.

"Too what? Don't think I didn't see the bruises on that boy that were days older than the new ones he wore when we found him. Tell me just how did he get them? Or do I need to ask? Because if you can threaten my son a complete stranger like this then I can just imagine what you could do to your own."

Greg cursed behind his mother and pushed up against her back, angry that may be the sonofabitch in front of him had been the cause of some of Sam's injuries. "You bastard, I hope Sam never has to see you ever again. Shoot him mom."

John took a step forwards desperate to explain himself, realising that this had all gone horribly wrong, when the air above his head exploded in buckshot and he ducked low protecting his head with his arms instinctively.

Connie hadn't meant to discharge the gun but the nudge from her son in anger at her back on hearing that Sam may have been hurt by his own dad, and that coupled with the man seeming to lunge at made her finger slip and the gun went off. Loudly.

Gasping in surprise at the noise she was thankful that her aim, always rotten, had gone high and no damage had been done. Yet.

On watching the man jump back onto his feet she readied the other barrel at seeing the anger march across his face and couldn't trust him not try and take the gun from her. She had Greg to worry about and she'd make sure that this man would never lay a finger on her son. Not ever.

Stunned John struggled back on to his feet a litany of curse words coming from his mouth at how near he had gotten to having his head blown off his shoulders. Eyeing the woman in front of him he heard the other barrel readying to be fired and he was forced to shake his head bitterly realising that the woman meant business.

Having enough sense left he walked back briskly to his truck, grimly aware that he had well and truly fucked up big time here by barging in there like a madman.

If only he had gone in there with a clearer head, more control, then maybe they might have let their guard down to trust him a little better. Now they were so against him, so willing to believe that he'd hurt his boy that they were not going to tell him anything. And that still left Sam alone and all he could do was return to Dean empty handed and keep the damned lies ongoing.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam woke to a gentle snoring in his ears and he half lifted his head off the pillow to look down on the sleeping form tucked in around him. Melanie had spooned her body around his, draping a leg over his as if to stop him from escaping, before finally falling asleep just as dawn started to rise.

Letting his head sink back down into the pillow he smiled appreciatively at still finding himself warm in a soft bed. Though when he had first wished for it last night in the diner he had not imagined the bed being Melanie's or what would follow.

Grinning inanely up at the ceiling he thanked the higher gods for skills of the older woman and closed his eyes readying for sleep.

The click of the door latch being pulled open snapped his eyes open fully alert and his eyes locked with the pissed of figure looking down at him. Shit thought Sam, this is no time to go commando.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

****

**_Usual disclaimer about owning nothing re Kripke's world of supernatural apply. _**

**_Warm thanks for all those really supportive reviews – they really do help me write just that little bit faster and as you might have all guessed by now I can be slow! And yes still sadly all screw ups are all my own. Rozzy_**

_**Escaping of grav****ity - Part 11**_

**_Magic Fingers & Steel_**

"Jeez Brian wanna knock next time?" croaked out Sam warily as the older boy walked into the room, looking for all the world like he was readying for battle, his face set ridiciously hard on his normal soft features. When there was no response, not even a flicker of acknowledgement Sam looked carefully with a more measure eye at the short man.

It was the glassy look on his face that gave Sam the first hint that this was not a normal visit and he realised the he was witnessing an event that he had seen only once before with Caleb many moons again after a troubled hunt. Sleep walking.

"Brian," Sam whispered gently again not wanting to wake the girl lying so comfortably in his arms or send the stricken man into a whirlpool of fear if he awoke too abruptly. "Come on dude time to go back to bed. She's safe. Okay."

Still caught up in a half dream state Brian froze as if listening, but his eyes were still unfocused. If Sam's word penetrated his dreaming state he couldn't be certain but the man muttered something inaudible under his breath, gave a small shrug of his thin shoulders and then turned around and walked lazily out of the room.

It wasn't until Sam heard the click of a door being shut down the long length of the hallway did he let out a deep sigh of relief. Spent he threw his head back on the pillow and resisted the urge to laugh out loud at this strange quirky interlude into his fucked up life.

Forever it had seemed he had been surrounded by the freaky and paranormal but to see someone normal like Brian do this just scared the crap out of him. Fighting back the urge to run he decided that what Melanie had to offer was worth the little hiccup or two along the way and he shifted his long body along the mattress and tried to find sleep.

That was before the sharp clack of claws across the wooden floor brought him instantly alert. Before he could react further something sniffed at his bare feet that hung over the edge of the foot of bed and he gasped in surprise. A hot tongue licked at his toes and a giggle was forced to escape and not for the first time hated that he was so ticklish.

"Go away," huffed Sam wriggling from underneath the sleeping girl muffling another giggle into the crook of his arm as the dog continued to attack his feet.

"Gerr off," he whispered desperately fighting off the urge to laugh, contorting as the dog licked happily at his exposed toes.

Managing to finally push the dog back away with a the sole of one foot Sam groaned out loud when suddenly it reappeared at his side of the bed paws firmly planted by his pillow panting and whimpering as if he wanted to crawl into bed with them

"Get lost yer crazy hound," he hissed at the large dog readily thumping its tail loudly on the floor, but the dog just cocked his head at him whined softly before starting to lick his hand. Sighing he knew the only way to get rid of his unwanted visitor was to return him back to its oddly sleeping owner in the other bedroom.

"Stupid mutt," grouched Sam as he pulled on his loose fitting jeans and grabbed at the dog's collar. He could vaguely Mel telling him how Brian was dog sitting for his dad while he was away but it was disconcerting to have Fido here barge his way in like this.

Casting an appreciative eye over at the sleeping girl he sighed longing just to curl back into her but the dog continued to gaze up at him expectantly and he muttered darkly, "Your just damn lucky I didn't shoot your stupid head off sneaking in like that. Dean would have had you skinned by now and you'd be no more than some fancy designer rug."

The big dog thumped its tail even harder as Sam talked down to him and was easily led out of the room. The half-light of early morning Sam cast the messy apartment in shadows, but even in the dim light he could recall the exact layout of the living room. Walking easily around the furniture he couldn't keep a happy smile off his face, recalling just how much he had laughed last night as Mel and her friends entertained him with their horror stories of college life.

Still the night had been long and the beer had been flowing, a fact evident by the number of bottles littering the room, so that now his mouth felt musty and as he looked over at the large collection of empties he realised he was in desperate need of a glass of water.

Taking off for the kitchen the dog remained super glued to his side as he rooted around in a cupboard for a clean glass and he looked questioningly down at the large brown canine, "You waiting for something?"

The whacking of the tail increased and Sam looked down to see an empty water bowl on the floor. Pouring his glass of water into the bowl he watched as the dog started to lap it up immediately and he laughed lightly, "You been on the beer too Fido?"

Pouring himself another glass from the tap Sam supped slowly, his eyes drifting through the kitchen window as the sun drifted up in a bright stab of orange.

A shadow moved down below the windows edge and Sam eyed a figure leaning against the panelled fence. He was a large beefy looking guy, early twenties with a short buzz cut so that he looked like your average linebacker readying for a fight, hands tight in his large coat pockets against the chill in the early morning air.

A sour expression could be seen clearly on the man's face as he pulled himself upright at being spotted and locked eyes with Sam.

Not easily intimidated Sam stared him down, wondering what business he had to be lurking outside the second storey apartment like this anyway. As if reading his thoughts the man curled his top lip, shook his head angrily and then spun around to walk away, disappearing quickly around the tall fence and out of view.

Finishing of his water Sam slowly washed up the glass and put it on the drainer his mind going over what he had just witnessed. Why just for once couldn't he do normal without that in itself unending up decidedly weird?

Sighing he dried his hands off and took another brief look out of the window but the yard remained empty. He'd ask Mel about the guy later he promised himself, not liking the thought that the place was being watched like this. He could vaguely recall a similar looking guy in the bar last night and Mel muttering something about her ex-boyfriend.

The dog had settled by his feet and woofed softly as he moved away but Sam shook his head and palmed a warning 'no' and the dog taking that as his cue to stay rested its chin back on the floor, tail still beating softly as Sam retreated back to the warm arms of Melanie.

As he slipped back in to bed the cold touch of his bare chest against her back made her whimper and she twisted around to wrap an arm around him, eyes now half opened readying to throw off the need for sleep as she felt his body warming up against her.

Mel whispered suggestively in his ears, her fingers starting to wander on familiar territory after mapping out his entire body earlier, "Not planning on making your great escape yet were you Sam?"

Sam sunk deeper into her arms letting her deft fingers work their magic over his skin, a grin splitting his face and responded teasingly, "So I take it you're not readying on chucking me out with the dawn then?"

Melanie nuzzled into his neck, her breath lifting the loose curl around his ear as she answered, "Oh baby now why would I do a silly thing like that?"

Her fingers lingered over a healing cut on his side, gently brushing against the top of the thin scab and felt Sam's return the touch with long slender fingers brushing lingering down her spine and she groaned softly into his chest.

Sam despite his odd collection of bruises and healing wounds hadn't let it hold him back from doing anything that she asked of him last night. For someone so young he possessed an amazing strength that seemed to wrap itself around her so that she felt totally safe in his arms, and that coupled with an air of assurance about him pushing all her older supposedly more experienced lovers aside in his wake.

Besides, she told herself with a large appreciative smile, she had never experienced her scalp, fingers and toes tingle all at once like they had last night and as she drew a long suggestive finger down over his slim hip bone she knew she wanted to feel that sensation again. And many more times over to come.

Mentally as her other hand dipped into the drawer of the bedside cabinet she had told herself she would have to go to the pharmacy and get a bigger box. Especially if she had anything to say about it she intended to keep Sam's magic lips and fingers on her for a good while longer.

There were still many weeks to go before Stanford she told herself hoping that meant he'd stick around. He said he needed a job and somewhere to stay and she wasn't adverse to helping with all of those things as long as it kept him in her bed for as long as possible.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

As the weeks merged into one long dreary road of recovery Dean had struggled not to go completely insane as the boredom of hospital life took its toll. The leg was healing fast and was almost ready for the cast to come off and the physio to begin, but no matter how much he nudged for a release date the damned white coated jackasses that called themselves doctors would just look at him, nod, mutter 'In a week or two' and then wonder off to the next victim to torture.

That week or two wait offered to him by the doctors was going to drive him freaking nuts. He was all read out, all televisioned out, all pep talked out, he was just all out of any thing but anger.

Not even Clemmie during the long evening shifts could work her magic entirely anymore and stop the angry young man of before from taking over in fits and starts. There was a temper growing within him readying to burst out and if he could have punched something, someone to offset the anger boiling inside without the threat of a straightjacket his fists would be red raw by now.

Since getting over the little hiccup of the blood clot his dad had started to ease up on the 'over protective father' mode and let the hunter in him take control once more. He had been gone more often than not these past weeks, doing the odd hunt here and there. Never straying to far from Detroit he'd say, but far enough to be gone days at a time.

Every time he returned he seemed more and more distant, almost distracted, so that even normal conversation by their strange standards seemed forced.

Something was going on in his dad's head that he wasn't yet willing to share with him and that just pissed him off even more. Was it because his dad could only relate to him as a fellow hunter, and now laid up like this all he could see was the broken leg and the son that was laid all trussed up was currently of no use to him?

For the last eighteen years he had strived to serve as his dad's right arm, not this useless figure reduced to just lying in a hospital bed listening to the how the latest hunt went from the wrong side of the fence. But worse still was that he missing the left side of the equation, Sam, like there was no tomorrow.

This loss was all only serving to reinforce a flaw that he guessed his dad perceived in him now. Dean Winchester was not perfect, letting his little brother absence cloud his judgement and god didn't he know that John Winchester had no truck with weakness in any shape or form.

Flicking off the TV he threw the remote on to the bedside cabinet and scowled at the blank screen. He knew his irritation wasn't just about his leg or even how his dad was reacting. Deep down every time he thought on his little brother it felt as if a knife stabbed him in the guts.

For the last five weeks he had had enough time to sit and stew, think over all the things that had gone wrong between him and his brother this past year and was still left feeling stunned that Sam could desert him like this.

In all his time in this godforsaken place there had not been one conciliatory attempt at contacting him. Not even a stupid postcard from California to rub his nose in it. Nothing at all. As if meant absolutely nothing to his baby brother.

"Damn you Sammy. When did you get so fucking ice cold?" he spat out angrily at nothing but himself. Feeling as if these last eighteen years of him being there for him must have really meant nothing to the kid he felt utterly wasted, and a little bit used.

Not even his dad's placating conciliatory words meant anything now other than serve as a reminder of what he was missing. As soon as he got out of this awful place he was back fulltime into hunting. Nothing, nothing at all, was going to stop him from doing what he did best from now on.

Stupidly he had let his brother's leaving distract him enough to allow some freaking poltergeist drop an entire brick wall on his leg, but that was never ever going to be a weakness of his again.

Sammy was not ever going to be able to hold that power over him anymore and resolutely he convinced himself he'd match his brother's indifference with his own visceral coldness if they ever met up again. Now he was determined to erect the mental barriers that would allow him once and for all to let go of his wayward cold-hearted brother.

And as he did bit by bit Dean Winchester's heart continued to shatter, and the man emerging was a frightening one to behold.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Taking a flight down to Indiana after hearing second hand from Jim Murphy at what had happened with that fool John Winchester and the farmer's wife Aaron Jennings finally made his way to the Huffman's house.

Bitter at the wait at getting more information about Sam he knew he should have done this when he first found out about the boy ending up in the local hospital. Somehow he had let Jim persuade him to hold back and let John make an attempt to try and repair the damage he had done. And what a joke that turned out to be with the stupid bastard almost getting his head blasted clean off from his shoulders.

The Huffman woman should have been a better shot he told himself dryly as he eyed the old farmhouse, wondering how on earth Sam ended up here in the first place.

As he got out of the hire car and walked across to the front veranda he was met at the front door by a forty something man eyeing his approach to the house with distrust on his face.

Reaching out a hand of greeting Jennings' tried to settle the unease the man clearly had about him being on his doorstep as quickly as possible, "Hello Mr Huffman my name is Jennings. Professor Jennings from Berkley. Maybe Samuel Winchester has spoken about me?"

A head poked out from around the farmer's legs and before he could respond the little girl grinned up at the stranger. "I know you, Sam said you were a nice man."

Tipping his head at the half visible girl he responded with a warm smile. "Well that's good to know. Sam opinion always means a lot."

Pushing his daughter back Dave with the flat of his hand against her face he quickly shook the man's hand and indicated with a nod of his head for the man to step into house. "You best come in then Mr Jennings and tell me what you has brought you all the way out here."

Dave kept the door open to let the tall man pass through trusting his own judgement that the older man was here with honest intent. After his wife's encounter with Sam's father last week he was still a little anxious to have few more answers about the young boy that had crawled into his family's heart.

Tossing a weak grin up at the tall man as he led him down the long hallway to the back of the house he added softly, "Best you meet the wife Professor. Though be warned if you upset her she's liable to try and blow a hole in you."

Jennings laughed deep, "Oh yes Mr Huffman your wife's trigger happy finger has already reached the ears of many of Sam's old friends. Can't say I'd blame her myself. John Winchester has never been an easy man to like."

"I personally didn't meet the man but my Connie sure took an instant dislike to him." answered Dave as he showed him into the kitchen. It had scared the hell out of him on hearing secondhand what had gone on with his wife and that man. Thank god Greg had been there to tell him exactly what had happened and not sugar coat it as Connie had first done.

As they stepped into the kitchen the blonde haired woman turned at the approaching voices and tensed up fearing another confrontation like last weeks encounter with Sam's father. Preparing to stand her corner she waited with baited breath as Dave walked in with a tall distinguished looking man with a shock of grey hair and a weather beaten face.

"Hey honey this here is Professor Jennings. He's come all the way from Berkley. He's here about Sam."

Watching the woman's guard falter under his introduction Aaron stepped decidedly forwards, taking her hand in a gentle handshake and throwing her a dazzling smile that had her defences already melting as fast as the polar ice caps. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mrs Huffman. Please call me Aaron,"

"Sam spoke of you with great affection," came back Connie with a blush on her cheeks before indicating for him to take a seat at the table. "Would you like some refreshments, a coffee or something?"

"Coffee sounds lovely," answered Jennings silently grateful for the warm reception as he sat on the wooden chair. A small figure tugged on his sleeve and he saw the red haired girl from earlier looking up at inquisitively. "So we meet again young lady and just pray who might you be?"

Ronnie looked at him solemnly blue eyes assessing him trying to get past the fancy words, "Veronica Huffman. I'm almost six you know and Sam is my friend too." She paused and her nose wrinkle. "I didn't think you'd be so old. Are you going to be to old look after my Sam in California?"

Ignoring the shocked gasp from the girl's mother Aaron laughed easily at the honest evaluation of him and bent down to her, "If I can find him sweetie I surely hope I can help him."

Turning back abruptly to the adults he added. "That's why I'm here. Since I found out what happened with his father I flew back from England and to be frank I've been going a little crazy with worry for the lad. You can imagine my concern when I found out that he had been admitted to hospital…a concussion and cracked ribs I believe?"

Dave nodded, "He took a bit of a battering but was well enough to be released to my wife's care that same night."

Connie sank down on a chair opposite realising just the sort of impact Sam Winchester was having on all their lives and pushed a cup of coffee over to her guest and shook her head sadly, "That boy doesn't really understand the sort of love he generates in others does he?"

Aaron nodded at her astuteness, "Ah yes, he has certainly touched many a life and there are many of us out there concerned from him. I know he's all grown up and all but he has a way of attracting the most ridiculous trouble to him at times. His brother normally sheltered him from it but now…"

"Well he was fine when he left us that's sure, especially after all the TLC Connie poured on him after his accident." Dave quickly voiced not wanting to reveal all to the man.

Michael was their secret and this man as nice as he seemed to didn't need to know all of what had happened. "I did try to get him to ring his father and tell him of what had happened but he seemed to think that wasn't an option left open to him anymore. Then when that man actually turned up and scared my Connie like that I can see why the kid wouldn't want to contact him."

Aaron took a steadying breath and found himself defending in part the man he had wanted to punch the lights out ever since flying back to America. "John Winchester has said and done a lot of things that I don't agree with but I do know deep down he loves those boys of his. It's just hard for him sometimes to realise that he doesn't always know what's best for them."

Connie interrupted him her face ridden with concern, "But all those bruises on Sam when I found them. Some were many days old if not older. And the scars, why so many on a young boy like that?"

"Please ma'am you have to understand that John would never deliberately hurt his sons. Its just that sometimes in the nature of the business they engage in there will be the odd chance of one of them getting hurt. Believe me, hand on heart, those bruises were not put there by John Winchester's hands. I can promise you that"

"Still he didn't need to use his hands to hurt that boy, did he?" remarked David shaking his head sadly remembering the pain exposed by the youngster in the barn when he gave him the car.

Jennings nodded his understanding, "You're right of course. The man has a sharp tongue and Sam bore the brunt of it at times. John's never really understood what makes his youngest so different from him and it caused a lot of friction between them. Forcing the boy to choose like he did was wrong. Dumb even because as soft as the boy may look he is as strong willed as his father will ever be."

Ronnie looking between the three adults piped up in all her innocence with a serious expression on her small face, "Sam still loves his daddy though. I think his daddy just got too cross to remember that."

"So he went off to California how?" asked Jennings softly trying desperately not to show how deep the little girl's statement had hit home.

_Damn you John, this little girl sees things clearer than you or I ever could. Lets just pray that Sam could see it the same way too._

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

The next few weeks had gone by in a distracting blur for Sam. A blur of work and more importantly Melanie who helped to offset the loss he still felt every time he thought of his family.

Everytime his thoughts wandered back to what Dean was doing her lips proved a welcome distraction. It was a cowards way out he knew, allowing her skillful fingers and lips to numb the possibilties of the rejection to come from his brother.

Still Dean wasn't John's number one son for nothing and he knew he had to be patient if he was going to have a chance of getting him to talk to him again. Anxiously still he prayed that by time he reached California his stubborn brother would have chillled enough to at least take his call.

Still there there were other distractions besides his bad assed brother to keep him occupied. After the window incident on his first morning he had found out what he needed to about her ex Alf and the description matched the man staring him out. Since then Alf had remained firmly out of sight which suited Sam just fine because after getting the low-down from Brian and Carla he knew the guy was trouble.

With her contacts in town and campus Mel had found him a job at the local newspaper with relative ease. It was nothing exciting but the filing away of little snippets of information and obituaries would stand him good stead he told himself with all the long hours research and readying to come in his way in the college years ahead of him.

What made it bearable was the money having already having squirreled enough away to give him a full tank all the way to California now. The odd game of pool and poker just helped top up the 'Lets keep Sam eating fund' when he got to California.

If the daytimes were boring the nights were always interesting with Melanie and her small group of friends providing most of the entertainment. He had sent a few emails to his friends back in Michigan but realised the rest of his familiar connections would wait until he reached Palo Alto. It was not as if dad's old friends would give a toss about him taking off like this, and the only one he was really concernced about was still in sunny England. All of them could wait until he was more settled he reasoned and he knew what he was doing.

He had fallen into an easy routine with Mel and the other housemates. In the morning he take Fido, newly christened from Montgomery for a run. An easy eight miles that his body craved after the years of constant training with his family.

In the early evening after work he'd hang around with Brian whose sarcastic mouth reminded him so much of his brother at time it was really unsettling to listen to him but still kept him constantly entertained, and then later as the evening wore on he'd drive over to pick up Mel when her shift finished at the Diner. And then the real fun would begin.

It was a comfortable routine that he knew in his heart that he had to break sooner rather than later. The longer he'd stayed the harder it would become to leave Mel behind and the normal life she was offering him, but his dreams were of Stanford not of Indiana State. This was definitely not the reason why he had left his family behind.

As cruel as it might sound he knew Mel was only a passing distraction but it didn't mean he couldn't care for her. She was fun, bubbly and definitely an ongoing learning curve on what made women tick.

The female of the species he was slowly starting to appreciate were strange creatures at times, mercurial, emotional and sometimes as scary as any ghost he had faced in the past. And yet he was learning to love these qualities they collectively possessed as they were so different from the testosterone charged world he had always lived in.

After his first day with Melanie he has sounded her out about Alf sure that was the man he had spotted that morning. Her subdued affirmative response made him worried. Not for himself but for her.

After a few days he had taken Brian to one side and asked him about her ex, and what he found out made his blood freeze. It was hard to imagine anyone treating Mel badly but from all accounts that's just what the bastard had done. He only just trusted that the coward had the good sense to keep out of his way from now because he couldn't trust himself not to give him a good hard smack or two.

If it was thing his dad had instilled in him was respect for all woman, all ages, all shapes and sizes, and to never, not ever lay a hand on them.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Alf took a long final drag on the cigarette before dropping it to the dirt floor letting his heavy boot grind it underfoot as he heard the familiar approach of the boy who had stolen his Melanie from him.

The boy ran swiftly and with a natural grace that really infuriated him every time he saw him race by. Slipping back into the shadows of the trees he watched with hate on his face as the kid drew nearer and then pass him by without a glance. Those freaky long legs of his coupled with an easy stride took him quickly from view with a large mutt of a dog running happily at his side.

He knew the route the kid would take having him watched him in secret for the last week. The boy would take a left at the end of the block and then head into the back woods and fields that skirted the edge of town before looping back onto Main Street a few miles on and then running back. A long run that he never dream of doing especially after last nights skinful of beer that made his stomach queasy and his head thump. It was just another reason to chalk up on his list of hate for the boy.

Ever since that stupidly tall kid had turned up in Oscar's bar Mel had been refusing his phone calls. Eileen he knew now had been a big mistake and all he wanted was his life back it was before she'd come between him and Mel.

Why couldn't Mel see that? What did this stupid kid possess to stop her from remembering all the good times he had given before that stupid whore Eileen fucked it all up for them both.

Lighting up another cigarette he took another long drag and flicked his cell lid up. Pressing the familiar speed dial number he smiled when her voice answered sleepily down the line.

"Hello?" A yawn escaped from the half awake girl struggling to see in the dim light the caller's number.

"Hey sugar. Guess your kinda lonely right about now. I can come up and keep you warm if you like? Or more," chuckled Alf darkly down the line. He took another long drag and whispered "That kid may be pretty to look at but I can remind you what a real man can do."

Instantly alert Mel shot up in the bed her face blanching at the suggestion and the flutter of familiar fear whirling in her tummy. "Oh you wish. Sam is more a more a man than you'll ever by. Why can't you understand that its' over between us, take the hint why don't you?"

"You won't be saying that when your pretty boy ups and leaves you will you?" whispered Alf maliciously, "Then you'll be begging me to take you back again."

Melanie hissed angrily back not letting her ex rattle her the way he wanted to. "Not a cat in hells chance of that ever happening you asshole. Unlike you I learn by my mistakes. And that's what you were for me, two years of me being an idiot and you being a total bastard and a control freak from hell. I'll never ever take you back. Now get lost and leave me alone."

Alf snarled as the line went dead. His little Melanie was certainly much more feisty than he remembered, but he could deal with that once he got her back.

As he eyed the drawn curtains of her bedroom window he smiled darkly. It was quite a turn on her being so openly defiant, after all it was what had initially attracted him to Eileen with her dirty mouth and easy arms. Seems that this Sam kid was bringing out all the best in his little girl. He couldn't wait to make up for lost time with her and tomorrow he decided he'd get that little punk sorted out once and for all.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Nurse Clementine was rewarded with the biggest most genuine smile on Dean's face since she had turned up on a dare in a revealing red dress and pizza a few weeks back. Telling him that finally the cast was coming off and that he was scheduled for physio tomorrow was liking giving him Christmas and Thanksgiving all rolled into one.

"I think I love you," he whispered giddily up at the older woman before the familiar sneer lifted his top lip, "Bout fucking time though." The institutionalised grey pallor of his skin and frank disinterest that had lingered over him instantly evaporated with his goal of escape so much nearer that he could almost taste it in the air. A few sessions of physio and he was out of here, out of Detroit and back on the road with his dad again. Things were looking sweet again.

John Winchester looked on eyes glittering as he hovered in the doorway listening in. A weak smile graced his bearded face just glad that his son was at long last getting a physical out of the damned bed he'd been confined to for too long. Coming back to this good news was just the break he needed, that they both needed.

Bone weary he had just dashed back from a dead-end lead in Nebraska for his youngest son. He knew now that stubborn boy had well and truly gone to ground and wasn't going to resurface till he wanted to. Not helped no doubt by the poison that farmer's wife would have told him about his little visit to their farm. Sam didn't need any more ammunition when it came to hating his ass and he had handed it hand over fist to the woman by losing control like that.

"Hey son," he called out softly not able to keep the tiredness out of voice, "Don't sass Clemmie like that."

"Ah she loves it dad. It's what gives her that little pep in her step, right honey?" grinned back Dean in return.

Tallulah's throaty laugh was all the answer he needed. Yeah he smirked to himself, no matter what the age he could charm them all out of the trees.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Brian shivered as the cold morning air wrapped around him and he snorted in disbelief, not still believing that he had been stupid enough to agree to this. How that tall goofy kid had managed to persuade his sorry ass out of a nice warm bed with Carly to do this, run, was complete beyond him. Monty should be doing this he grumbled to himself but dad had picked up the reluctant dog last night and now he found himself the running buddy of the jolly green giant himself.

Sam smiled mischievously down at him, knowing how easily he had taunted him about his expanding waistline last night and his wounded pride had won out. "You ready Brian, I promise to go slow."

"Slow my ass you freak. I've seen your slow and not even smudge could keep up. Snail pace is what I want out of today or I'm heading for the nearest McDonald to pig out, extra frigging inch or not."

"I promise," grinned back Sam and started on a slower than normal trot down the block.

By the time he turned the corner at the end of the block he was more than a little startled at the wheezing noises his running companion was making after only that short journey.

Being unfit had never been an option in the Winchester household and it was strange to see how little interest any of the housemates had in staying in shape. For all his life that was what he had trained to be, physically primed and ready for everything that the living or the dead chucked at them. It was a habit he now found impossible to let go off, and the running was also a welcome release to any tension that he was holding on to.

As they headed into the shaded woodland Sam felt his skin prickle in warning. Casting a quick glance on his already beet red faced friend he slowed to a gentle trot, ears listening as the unease grew. Finally he came to a complete halt and Brian whispered a loud 'Thank you lord,' before dipping down to his knees drawing in long wheezy breaths. "I hate fucking running."

Ignoring the shorter man's obvious discomfort Sam brow drew together puzzled as his senses screamed a warning at him. Sharp eyes strained through the thin tree line sure that he could feel something out there, then his ears lifted as the sharp break of wood on the floor rang out.

"Brian, get up," warned Sam in a hard whisper. "Now."

Still struggling to breathe easy the older boy was instantly brought alert by Sam's sharp tone. Eyeing the tall figure he could see the concern on his face and quickly stood up straight. "What is it?"

"Trouble," answered Sam with a small nod over to the four men flanking the tree line with top goon Alf in the lead. "You can either run my friend, and fast, or you stay back and let me handle this."

Brian's mouth fell open. The kid was readying to take on four thugs and expected him to take off. "No fucking way."

Sam growled down at him. "Then watch and do as I say. I can deal with these idiots but I can't be saving your butt at the same time. Understand?"

Using his long reach he pushed Brian behind him, forcing him back a good few steps back. "Stay there and let me sort this out."

Alf's expression soured as he approached more than a little astonished that the kid seemed so unafraid. Freaking brat really did need to be learnt a lesson. Grunting out a command he watched as the kid kept his eyes firmly locked on him, "Get the bastard."

Two of Alf's thugs lunged forwards with profanities littering the air as they aimed punches at the way too calm boy. Both missed. Sam had side stepped them both and hit them both in return with bone jarring smacks to the head and body, pole-axing them so that they fell incoherently at his feet.

Just two large meat packets of little or no brawn and definitely not a brain cell worth salvaging between themselves to share, huffed Sam as he watched the two men crumble and fall down.

Then the glint of bright shiny steel hit the early morning rays as the dawn flitted through the thin canopy above and Alf lunged forwards knife in hand to make contact.

**TBC**

**Little cliffie of Sam whumpage to come, but not where you think! Hope you like. Let me know!**


	12. Chapter 12

**_Usual disclaimer about owning nothing re Kripke's world of supernatural apply. _**

**_Big thanks for Surplus Imagination for her wonderful help in betaing this chapter. Truly I was amazed at what a clearer head could see and make so much better (until I grew bored with not being able to post this chapter and started picking at it…so all those new mistakes are mine again!) _**

**_Again also many warm thanks for the ongoing reviews, they all really help this lazy writer (cough, cough) _****_type just a little faster. Rozzy_**

****

**_Escaping of _****_gravity - Part 12_**

**Greener-than-gree****n**

Armed with the all the information Jennings had pumped out of the farmer's family followed by the illicit hacking into their phone records Caleb drew up outside of the bar and wrinkled his nose in disbelief if not instant dislike.

The meagre trail of breadcrumbs that Sam had littered behind him on leaving Indiana had brought him to this quiet backwater town.

Sitting outside the battered frontage of Oscar's bar Caleb cast a way too judgmental eye over it. To all appearances the bar looked like a place he'd hang out with Dean rather than his greener-than-green little brother.

Sourly Caleb realised that the in the normal way of things the boy should be sitting in the back of the Impala with his nose buried in a book rather than hanging out in a dive like this. The thought of the Sam he knew mixing with trailer-trash and liquor just didn't seem real; especially since he was doing all of this outside the normal umbrella of protection that was his big brother.

With practised ease Caleb wove himself through the throng of half-cut people and cloying smoky atmosphere to get to the bar. As he looked around taking in the locals he realised with a grim shake of his head that somewhere along the line he and the boy's brother had seriously corrupted the kid if he was favouring such an establishment now.

With a low deep exhale Caleb realised that the boy had learnt more from their stupid shenanigans than his innocent green-blue eyes had ever admitted to.

'Damn it, Dean,' he realised with a wry shrug, 'We may have seriously corrupted that poor brother of yours if he thinks hanging out in a dive like this is healthy for him.'

Catching the eye of the bartender he pulled him closer with a promise of a twenty between his fingers. Holding out a photo in the other hand he asked abruptly, "You seen this guy? Tonight maybe?"

The bartender looked at the photo of Sam nodded and then as if an afterthought shook his head. "Yeah sure, but not tonight. His friends though are over there."

Caleb followed his nod of the head to see a small group of average looking college types huddled in the back of the bar. Releasing the twenty he smiled tiredly at the bartender, "I'll have a lemonade."

After taking up his drink and ignoring the look of open disgust on the bartender's face he walked slowly over the small group and three pairs of measured eyes looked up at him. One in particular caught his attention, a small man sporting two spectacular black-eyes just readying to go from green to hideous purple.

As he drew to halt in front of 'black-eyes' Caleb snorted out without the gift of a slower tongue to still his thoughts, "Hell man, you run into the back of a bus or something dude?"

Brian grinned big, quite enjoying his notoriety at having survived his encounter with Alf and his goons. "Not half as bad looking as the other bastard that for sure…"

Melanie and Carly looked warily up at the older man, trying to assess what sort of threat he might possess. Finally Carly coughed out, "Just what does my boyfriend's facial reconfiguration got to do with you mister? If your planning on adding to them I promise you I'll put my stilettos between your eyes first."

Laughing easily Caleb shook his head at the short girl and put up his hand in supplication, "No Miss not at all. I'm Caleb, and I'm just looking for a good friend of mine Sam Winchester."

There was a distinct pause as all three figures sitting before him dragged in slow breaths. A tear filled look met his as the dark blonde haired girl responded, "You really his friend or just a crony of that bastard ex of mine, Alf?"

"Don't know who the hell Alf is but I've known Sammy since he first started to crawl before becoming the walking-talking encyclopaedia that we all know and love today."

Caleb paused as he eyed the three friends and added in warning, "You do know he's underage, only just turned eighteen. He should never have been allowed to step into like a place like this…his brother would kill him if he ever found out."

"Yeah well Sam could take care of himself that's for sure eighteen and is a hell-of-lot more mature than some of the idiots at college that I hang with at times." muttered Carly under her breath. "Besides it helped supplement his own little trust fund he was creating. So who were we to try and stop him?"

"Trust fund? What the hell?"

Brian interjected with obvious admiration in his voice, "Yeah you know his way to keep afloat when he got to Stanford. He could fleece the last dollar of any idiot that dared play against him. I never saw him lose, not once."

Caleb raised an eyebrow more than a little astonished that the youngest Winchester appeared to be following so easily in his big brothers wayward footsteps finally admitting, "Well the kid has never been an underachiever that's for sure."

Melanie nodded her fingers playing around a half empty beer bottle looking like she was readying to cry before she spoke up softly, "I'd watch Sam play here and in other bars and he would literally charm the pants of these big mean scary guys even as he stripped them of their cash. Funny thing as he walked away there never was any hard feelings from the guys he'd beaten. There was just this special something about him that people liked. Know what I mean?"

Studying the girl's crumbling demeanour Caleb added softly, " Yeah I do know. That kid has always had this ability of burrowing into your heart with just a flash of dimples and a knowing stare. It can be totally disarming."

Melanie mutely nodded and Carly squeezed her hand in support and spoke for her, "Sure could, and Sam was one of the good guys. A real gem."

Nodding his agreement Caleb locked eyes with Carly. "Well that little 'Gem' as you called him really has led me a merry dance this last month trying to track down his sorry-ass. Sam's had his family worried sick."

Melanie dismissed the idea shaking her head angrily, "Really? Sam said his dad told him to get lost after getting a scholarship to college. Bloody screwed-up bastard if you ask me."

She paused took a small swig of her beer eyeing the attractive stranger's cautiously before adding, "That's why he holed up here in the first place, working whatever angle he could so that he'd get the cash he needed to drive to California and survive out there. His family 'worried' my ass!"

Caleb frowned at her critical statement. The boy really did think his family wanted him gone and he could only guess at all the bitter words said by all of them that had driven him permanently away like this.

Now it all made sense as to why Sam wasn't trying to contact anyone. Damn-stubborn Winchester pride was taking control over any commonsense it seemed.

Deciding to ignore her bitter comments, Caleb asked pointedly of the rest of the group, "So where is the big guy? Taking a bathroom break I bet? He can be such a girl at times!"

Melanie shook her head and looked away biting her bottom lip and the silence was deafening.

Caleb sucked air between his teeth in alarm. Just where the hell was Sam?

Brian pulled out a stool and nodded up at the tall man. "Best park yourself down and I'll tell you what happened."

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

Nurse Clementine watched sadly as her favourite badass patient carelessly shoved the last of his belongings into a beat-up holdall. For the last week the boy had been impossible to slow down. Now that the physio had done its job so that the leg was well enough to support his weight he was making his escape from her care, albeit with the help of a cane.

The place was going to be incredibly dull with him going she realised with a deep sigh as the smart-mouthed spirited terror had made the last few weeks so much more enjoyable for her. The kid had a pair of balls to match his mouth and attitude that's for sure, pushing beyond the pain barrier to get back on his feet way ahead of schedule.

Dean as if sensing her eyes on him spun round and threw her a big cheesy grin and patted his left butt-cheek provocatively. "Still checking out the merchandise, I see Clemmie."

"Be away with you, Dean Robinson. I think the whole of the nursing staff are readying to party when you leave. I know I've got my party poppers and tequila shots already lined up when I see your sorry-behind leave this hospital once and for all."

"Oh that wounds me deeply. Here I thought you loved me dearly. What happened to you Tally to make you so old, twisted and bitter?" snapped back Dean with waggle of his eyebrows.

"You came along and made me realise that being caring and loving was a truly thankless task," sniffed Nurse Clementine as she leant over him and zipped up the still open bag battling away the sting of tears.

Dean threw her a lopsided grin, an eyebrow lifting as he heard the tremor in her voice. and he knew she was going to miss him as much as he would her.

The 'old broad' as Dean liked to think of her with affection had fire in her veins and he honestly didn't think he would have made it without her sharp tongue and sassy wit to see him through this last month.

"I'll miss you too you old dragon," he admitted softly and gave her a fierce hug which she returned.

After a few seconds a little embarrassed by their genuine display of emotion they pulled away from each other, though both pairs of eyes were glittering dangerously. A small cough helped ease their discomfort as John stood expectantly in the doorway. "You ready to leave son?"

Dean nodded and watched his dad take the bag from the bed expecting him to follow.

Nurse Clementine looped her arm through Dean's arm as he pointedly ignored the wheelchair the orderly had brought in and walked slowly down the corridor with him. "You'll take care of yourself Dean, promise me that. And keep away from falling masonry in the future. Okay?"

Dean squeezed her hand and nodded. "Yeah Clemmie, the same right back at you. I'll send you a postcard from California when I get there."

John froze by the lift as he heard his son's parting words to the nurse. Damn it Dean still meant to get out there and find his brother.

For the last two weeks Dean had been decidedly quiet on the subject of his brother, but he should have known that once free of the hospital his oldest boy would be refocusing his attention back onto his absent brother

Tonight John realised sourly he had to sit Dean down and tell him in part the truth about Sam, which thankfully now wasn't all bad news.

After getting feedback second-hand from Jim about Caleb's meeting with Sam's new friends he realised that somehow his youngest had developed the ability to land on his feet like some freaking cat with nine lives.

All those weeks of worry had been for nothing it seemed. From the Huffman's to a new car and an older girlfriend his boy really was showing them all that he didn't need them anymore. His youngest push for total independence was at full speed now and there was not a damned thing he could do about it.

Dejectedly John jabbed the lift's button for the ground floor, realising that he had pushed the boy out of the door thinking that he'd return at some point either for his brother, or with his tail between his legs, begging to stay as the reality of life out there beat him down.

Sam contrary to the last was telling him loud and clear now that he was going to do neither. The boy was running clear across country away from his old life to a new one and didn't mean to stop for anyone or anything. Especially not for John but more importantly because of him.

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

_Two days previously_

Melanie's new toy-boy was not the easy victim he had assumed him to be acknowledged Alf with a snort of annoyance as he watched two of his companions go down. The tall boy had taken out his friends with a just a few well-aimed punches and judging from their inert bodies laying sprawled on the ground his hands must have been made from fucking cast-iron.

Alf smiled confidently though as the weight of the bowie knife in his hand gave him still a big advantage. Steel against flesh always won out and it would be fun slicing and dicing the pretty boy's face up.

Grunting his intent Alf swung the blade out hoping to do as much damage to the cocky kid as possible as he sliced through the air.

Sam eyes firmly on the knife neatly side stepped away from the lunging man and kicked out, his foot curling into Alf's gut eliciting a hiss of pain as he doubled over struggling to stay on his feet.

Years of training with his brother took over and as he watched the man struggle to get back up on his feet Sam instinctively reached down to the woodland floor to snatch up a rough staff of dark wood. The crude club in his hand put him at a distinct advantage over these clumsy ill-prepared so-called fighters and he was eager to get this over with as quickly as possible.

As he straightened up at the edge of his vision a shadow moved and he realised too late that Alf's other fight-buddy had snuck up behind him. Brian shouted out a warning but Sam didn't have enough time to get out of the way and felt a sharp blow to his lower back as a heavy fist found its mark.

'Damn it,' Sam thought angrily to himself as he sucked in a sharp breath acknowledging his mistake at not keeping an eye on the other man and leaving his back exposed to attack. Dean would have slapped the back of the head in annoyance at being so stupid and slow.

Dancing out of reach Sam swung round quickly to see the broad man readying to throw another punch at his head. In a low tight arc Sam swung hard with the heavy branch and the satisfying sound of ribs cracking met his ears.

Sam threw a tight smile as the shocked man's eyes locked with his, before thug number three sank wheezing in pain to the ground.

Watching his would-be attacker falter Sam swung again not willing to take the chance of the large man coming back into the fight. Hitting the side of the goon's head with the club Sam watched as a small smudge of red mottled his mousy brown hair before the defeated man slumped into unconsciousness.

Throwing a brief look at Brian who stood transfixed on the periphery of the fight zone Sam shook off the tension building in his upper body with a few rotations of his shoulders and neck before swinging his attention back to number one goon, Alf.

The idiot was back on his feet again, eyeing him warily but with his knife still glinting dangerously in his hand. Sam smirked then openly at the sight of the man trying desperately to intimidate him.

Dean had trained him too well he realised as he felt his mouth go into full scorn mode. "You are so freaking moronic it's not even funny anymore. If you had half a brain cell you'd be half-way across town running away like the coward you are."

"Shut your fucking mouth you bitch," snarled Alf as his faced reddened at the insult. The boy's confidence and ability in a fight had him seriously rattled but he had fought dirty enough in the past to still to hope to win, especially as he had the advantage of the large knife in his hand.

Sam smiled brightly, menacingly so, lifting a finger in warning, "Your really not that bright are you? See I'm not some little girl you can smack around. That seems to be your favoured modus operandi isn't it? Rough the girls up and make them cry."

"Yeah well you'll be crying like a fucking girl when you're left holding your guts in your hands," snapped back Alf as he slowly circled around the taller boy.

Sam chuckled not impressed, "We'll see whose crying soon enough you fugly bastard."

"Fuck you," hissed back Alf not able to think on his feet fast enough to come back with a biting retort. Instead he relied on his ability to inflict pain and he crouched down readying to lunge at Sam with his blade. "I'm gonna mark up your pretty face so that Mel will scream good and loud when she sees you next."

Sam snapped his head down to look at the smaller man, his face clouding in anger and Alf realised he had said the wrong thing to the boy.

"By the time I'm finished with your sorry ass, you're so gonna wish you never started this," growled Sam in warning straightening up to his full height to tower over his opponent.

The older man wasn't yet ready to back down and his own irrational resentment took over as he waved the knife in a slashing motion in the air. "Screw you. Mel won't won't want to touch you again after she sees what I've done to you."

Alf stabbed out with the blade again but his boldness was for nothing as the club in Sam's hand cracked viciously against his attacker's wrist, shattering bone and eliciting a scream of agony causing the knife to drop from obviously numb fingers to the ground.

Sam closed in dropping his own weapon readying to use his fist in personal anger at the man. This creep had dared to hurt Melanie and his anger spilled out in a cold decisive fury.

Alf had no defence against the sharp stinging blows that rained down him. He felt his nose break after the second punch, followed by a hot spray of blood down his face and into the back of his throat choking his airway but couldn't protest as the hits kept coming.

Spitting out a mouthful of blood Alf finally dropped down onto his knees trying desperately to protect himself from the punches by cradling his arms over his head but Sam's fists easily broke through his guard and found flesh and bone to strike at.

By the fifth or sixth punch Alf's ears were ringing so loudly he couldn't even hear himself scream anymore, his body defensively curling into a tight ball at the kid's feet as the beating continued, till finally he found himself begging out loud for it to stop.

Sam stood over the sobbing wreck of a bully crawling on the woodland floor with disgust clear on his face. Pushing his anger aside he let the rage disperse from him and clinical reasoning took over.

He wanted this man out of Melanie's life for good.

Picking up the large knife that Alf had dropped Sam grabbed the whimpering man by his collar and whispered harshly into his ear whilst pushing the tip of the blade into his crotch. "You ever come near Melanie or her friends again I will track you down and I'll make you wish that I'd finished the job today. You understand me?"

Alf looked at him through half closed eyes, already swelling shut, tears spilling down his bruised face as he nodded his understanding. The knife shifted and he winced and he feared the boy would not stop his attack as the tip dug through his jeans into sensitive flesh drawing blood.

"Please." Alf brokenly begged as the boy's once deceptively soft eyes were now chillingly cold. Judging by the boy's frigid look he knew that he'd make good his threat and he hissed out through a froth of blood and phlegm, "I'll leave 'em alone. I promise."

"You do that you sorry excuse of a man," huffed Sam as he let go of the whimpering man and slipped the knife into the back pocket of his jeans.

Sam attention was swung away from the broken man as he heard a fresh scuffle going on behind him. One of the thugs he knocked out earlier had woken up and had tried to make his escape but Brian had tackled him to the ground and the two were engaged in an untidy tangle of flying fists and feet.

In a matter of seconds the shorter man had rolled the taller bully on to his back and was straddling him aiming blow after blow at his head.

After a few seconds of watching the battle Sam reached down and pulled Brian off the man who was clearly no longer able to defend himself.

"Why'd you pull me off the bastard?" panted Brian angrily snuffling slightly as his eyes and nose watered.

"He's out cold Brian," responded Sam with a small nod at the man lying prostrate on the ground. He placed a hand in appreciation on his shoulder, "Way to go dude. Thanks."

Throwing an appreciative grin Sam assessed the damage to Brian's face with cool fingers turning his head from side to side. Thankful that he could see no signs of any concussion he let out a soft breath but Brain after his scuffle did have the making of two shiners to come. "Think your sporting a couple of shiners here dude."

Brian grinned goofily at him ignoring the pain that it brought to his bruised face and split lip. "Man-o-man that was my first fight ever, and I totally aced it!"

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

Caleb grinned at the man's exuberance as he finished the story. "So Sam sorted out this Alf and his goons and then what?"

"He took off man. Had to. The guy he had clubbed senseless and broke the ribs of just happened to be the fat assed local mill owner's son. The man has a lot of clout in a small hick town like this so he had to leave in a hurry," came back Brian with a small shrug.

Caleb sucked in a knowing breath. Not only was Sam frequenting bars, hustling and playing around with an older girl but was also doing what the Winchesters did best - beating the crap out of things.

Brian sighed and added throwing a softening look at the way too silent Melanie, "He also found out about his dad going crazy at the family he had stayed with before turning up here. The farmer's kid told him that his dad nearly had his head blown clear off and it really shook him up. Sam didn't want his dad turning up here to cause another scene. Suppose it also sort of helped push him out of the door a little faster if you know what I mean."

"Sam heard about his dad turning up the farmer's house?" Not good thought Caleb chewing on his bottom lip imagining how the boy would react to the threat of his dad trying to get him back under his control. This was one snippet of information that Jennings hadn't passed on or then again maybe even didn't know about.

"Yeah but at least he sorted out that bastard Alf good and proper first," added Carly swinging her head back to her friend. "We're sure thankful for that. "

Caleb finished the last of his lemonade and could see that the blond girl was clearly cut up at losing Sam so abruptly. "He said he'd keep in touch, right?"

Melanie looked up at him and smiled weakly her voice throaty from choking back her tears. "He said he'd ring when he got to California. Wanted to give me some space you know until then. Maybe it was his way of just a quick and less messy goodbye."

Caleb stood up nodding his thanks, "Trust me Sam will call you. When he says he'll do something he does."

He paused and dug into his jacket pocket pulling out a card handing it over to Melanie, "When he does ring you let him know that Caleb has been looking for him. Not his dad but me. Here's my number, tell him to call me. Please."

As Caleb got back to his car the relief flooded through him that Sam for all his apparent naivety was growing up fast and way more street smart than they had given him credit for.

Hitting the speed dial he rested against the hood of his car waiting for his call to be picked up but it only took three short rings. "Hey Aaron, yeah man… its me. The Sam's already skedaddled out of here and is heading over to your neck of the woods by all accounts. I think the kid still doesn't know that you're back in the country. Sorry Professor."

"Damn. When did boy get so uncommunicative? Did you get a new cell number for him at least?" asked Jennings anxiously.

"Nope doesn't have one. Doesn't matter anyway because believe me that kid is going to be running under Papa Winchester's radar from now on. He knows about John turning up at he Huffman's farm and isn't happy about it. Sam thinks his dad is chasing after him to try and physically manhandle him back into line or something."

"Shit," countered Jennings. "John really is a fucking fool unto himself at times."

Caleb smirked at the older man's language. "Yeah, well Sam's running at breakneck speed I guess to Palo Alto before his dad can feel his collar and yank him back into line."

"Sweet Lord," muttered Jennings under his breath realising that Sam streak of independence was taking him down a very lonely path. "So not a cat-in-hells-chance of him ringing home now, is there?"

"Nope, Sam's one stubborn of a sonofabitch when he has to be. You best keep your eyes peeled for a 1968 cherry-red mustang with the freaking Jolly Green Giant behind the wheel."

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

Melanie was two nights and almost eight hundred miles behind him now. Sam couldn't but help wistfully recall her sweet mouth and gentle fingers as he raced down the lonely dark lit road already missing her more than he cared to admit.

The girl had given him a shot of normal and Sam really had found himself enjoying the entire experience. Now he could appreciate just how generous Mel had been in the way she has trusted him so openly. If it hadn't been for Alf he might have dared stayed another week but he knew in his head the time for moving on was now, even if his heart didn't like it.

The push out of the door on finding out about the 'Mr Mill Owners son' and his dad in Indiana had been an easy way out. He just hated the look she had given him when he had taken it.

As the night wore and the Mustang ate up the miles Sam realised that for the first time in his life he was well and truly his own man who no longer had to take orders or follow after others.

There was no angry sniping dad anymore barking out orders at him and him having to respond with the ubiquitous 'Yes Sir, No Sir, let me kiss-your-ass Sir.'

This car was truly this his way too freedom, especially now he had enough money in his pocket to get to California in one hit, even though he may have to sleep rough for a few nights here and there.

Getting a job had to be his first priority on arrival at Stanford as the money in his pocket wouldn't last long. He really did need to get himself set up for the year ahead so that he'd survive no matter what his dad tried to do next.

Another part of him was also determined to make Dean see that he was not the failure his dad thought of him, that he could survive and make him proud in the end.

As he drove through the night, ignoring the need for rest, he pondered on his last and final phone call to the Huffman's two days ago. It kept coming back to him in a acid-wash of self-doubt swirling in his stomach. Ronnie had answered and the little girl had soon filled him in all the gory details of his dad's dramatic appearance on their doorstep the week before.

More alarmingly was how Connie had dealt with one mightily pissed off John Winchester in full rant mode spitting out verbal bullets at her by countering with a shower of buckshot that nearly took his dad's clean head off.

'Fucking spectacular,' thought Sam grimly. If it hadn't been for the fact that it was his dad on the receiving end of Mrs Huffman shotgun and a bucket load of shot maybe then he could have dared to admire her bravado.

After a fashion he had managed to bring to an end the conversation with a clearly reluctant Ronnie not wanting to let him go. Offering up a weak promise to ring back perhaps sometime later but knew already he had made another mistake in this one phone call alone.

This call could be traced back to Melanie's and the last thing he wanted was have his dad as mad-as-hell banging on her door in the midnight hour frightening the girl silly.

Knowing now that his dad had been actively hunting him down was a scary prospect to deal with. No doubt his dad was doing it to prove a point, to shove a finger in his shoulder before telling him just what a fucked-up failure he was in getting hurt first bolt out of the gate so to speak.

'Screw up Sammy' being supernaturally battered within hours of leaving the controlling sphere of his dad's 'protection' was the ready ammunition to use against him. It was just what he had been expecting from him and the perfect excuse to haul his ass back into the family business.

Cursing inwardly Sam realised he had screwed-up big time in allowing his real name to be used the hospital with the Huffman's and from now on he had to learn to cover his tracks a little better.

Resolutely he determined not to risk contacting anyone else until he got settled in California and hopefully by then he could deal with his control-freak of a father if or when he showed up.

His days of playing useless younger son were well and truly behind himself he told himself dryly. John Winchester for all his bullying ways was not going to win this battle about his future.

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

It was on the outskirt of New Mexico after a five day drive-a-thon that Sam Winchester decided that he needed to take a pit stop, eat something and find a cheap motel for the night or two as he felt utterly spent. The garish neon lit frontage of a truck stop diner lured him in.

Despite the noise and busy atmosphere he had found a seat in small booth too tired to care or notice that someone was already sitting opposite.

The sixty something Hispanic woman sitting opposite watched Sam with a small frown on her face as he hunched over the menu. He hadn't met her eyes once, not since the waitress had forced him to share the small booth they now found themselves sitting in.

As she picked at her limp Caesar's salad trying to remember when she had eaten anything so plastic she had tried to catch the boy's eyes but the dark spill of his long hair kept him from view.

Sighing, bored with her own company, she tapped the end of the menu he held in large hands with her fork. "Best stay clear of the salads son. Goddam evil stuff."

"Huh?" reacted Sam as he jerked his head up to stare threw his long bangs at the older woman invading his space.

Did the woman just use the word 'evil' he asked himself? Was supposed to be some sort of warning? Or was he just too plain tired that he couldn't even think of what to eat right now and was letting things rattle him too easily.

"I said don't order the green stuff. I swear it could walk off this plate into a dumpster under its own steam. And it tastes funny." She plonked her fork back on the plate and pushed the offending salad away.

Sam nodded and threw her a smile of appreciation at the warning, dimples briefly flashing. "Thanks ma'am."

She smiled at his polite use of title. "You're not from around here, are you? You just passing through then I take it?"

"Yeah, I'm making my way to California," sighed Sam finally putting the menu down meeting her gaze head on realising that he was not going to have a conversation free meal no matter how much he tried.

The woman took in his boyish face and nodded, "So you gonna go all Hollywood and be a famous pretty boy actor or model then?"

Sam blushed crimson and shook his head furiously at the notion. "No just going to college."

She laughed lightly at his horrified reaction and teased him further. "Sorry. Its jut that I'm sure a pretty boy like you could you know make some money modelling if you wanted to …"

"No, no, Ma'am. Believe me. Not happening, not ever. I'm gonna do law." Dean would die laughing if he got all 'loved up' as some stupid actor or model and would milk the embarrassment factor no end.

Thinking on his brother Sam's appetite started to wane and the easy smile vanished from his face. He so desperately wanted to talk to him, to find out from him where his dad's mindset was at but knew he couldn't take the risk.

Scary-Hunter-Dad wasn't something he could deal with right now or worse still an equally still pissed-off older brother. Best to run chicken until the new term started even if the loneliness was starting to eat away at him more and more. After he got settled on campus then he'd chance calling Dean to see if he could offset some of the damage done by his leaving.

Sensing his mood change the woman shot him a curious look as he went back to studying the menu as if something really important lay hidden there. Perhaps he was too uncomfortable having a plump Mexican woman sitting opposite him who didn't know when to keep her mouth shut and leave him alone.

She had pointedly ignored the snarkey looks thrown her way from a group of redneck yahoos sitting a few booths down. It had been a long day of travel and she wasn't going to let their ignorance stop her from getting a quick meal before she rested up for the night.

If the boy in front of her was uncomfortable with her presence he could have got up at any time if he was that way inclined she reasoned. She wasn't going to move for anyone ever again. She was just to plumb tired.

Sighing she tried to get the ache out of her bones from driving too long and twisted her neck to the get the kinks out. Another coffee she reasoned and then it was time park up somewhere a little more peaceful and get a good night's sleep.

It was then that she caught fully the curious gaze of the boy as he looked her way again, throwing her a rueful smile at her discomfort. "Long drive?"

"Yes I should have stopped half a state back…."

"Me too," smiled Sam softly rubbing his knuckles over his tired eyes as a yawn escaped. "Just seemed that I had to keep on going. You know? Just another fifty miles more here, another fifty mile there."

"That turned into a hundred, I know what you mean_ hijo_. Can't stand the lonely company though. Miss my Eddie something terrible on these long journeys."

"Eddie?" asked Sam softly seeing the woman's eyes drift away in thought and knew there was story behind the name readying to spill out.

The older woman threw him a rueful smile, "The only one true love of my life. Met him when I was sixteen, eloped at eighteen and then had two gorgeous boys with him to fuss over. He was a Marine, partially married to the corp and we'd follow him from base to base but God we were so happy. Then when he got pensioned off we moved to San Deigo. I took up painting, badly I might add, and he took up the stock market and found a new god to worship -golf. It was a good time till I lost him to the big C five years back."

Shaking her head sadly she added with a hint of bitterness in her voice. "I always told him to give up smoking those stupid cigarillos but he was too stubborn to want to quit."

"Sorry," offered up Sam a little uncomfortable at yet again being the depository for complete strangers to offload into.

Turning his head he tried to locate the waitress that has shown him to the booth but she was busy a few booths down talking happily to a bunch of very vocal locals whom really represented the worst of redneck society.

Grimacing in disgust Sam immediately clocked the small group of heavily tattooed shorn headed men as potential trouble in the making. Trouble was something he was determined to avoid from now on and he decided to make his order to go, as he didn't trust his mouth to not spout off if they started to push their racist remarks nearer to where he was sitting.

Still after another minute unable to get the waitresses attention he resignedly slumped back in the booth and knew that he was trapped with this woman and her stories for a while longer.

Shoving a photo at Sam of a small uniformed man holding a small pink bundle the woman's broad face beamed with motherly pride. "Still good things do keep on happening. My son has just given me my first grand child. They named her Marietta, after me. _Un pequeño poppett tan dulce." _

"

"Pretty name," answered Sam nose crinkling at trying to not to show his disinterest in the baby that looked way too much like Winston Churchill to be called in anyway pretty or even poppet.

Handing her back the photo he could feel the woman's obvious delight shine out of her and realised that love truly was blind. Had to be because that surely was the ugliest baby he had ever seen.

Yes she is so perfect." Cooed the woman. When he didn't respond she realised that she had made him a little uncomfortable, "Sorry son, its just that I am so proud of my boys and this little baby just means so much" Snaking out a hand to the boy she formally introduced herself.. " Sorry, I'm Marietta Consuela Vasquez-Adams. Etta Adams for short."

Shaking her hand in return the lie fell off his tongue, caution from recent past experiences making him just a little bit wiser from now. "Sam Huffman from Indiana. Pleasure to meet you ma'am."

**o0o0o0o0o0o **

A small gasp of pain to the left of her caught Etta's ear as she readied to strike at the bald-headed man again. A sharp whistle followed from one of his friends and her would be attacker spat sullenly at her feet and then took off back to the waiting truck.

She twirled around to see what had happened to her young rescuer and her mouth dropped open.

The tall boy had frozen in front of her with a silent bemused 'Oh' on his lips before he staggered backwards to slump against the side of the Winnebago as if his long legs were no longer able to support his lanky frame.

Clutching her frying pan readying to swing again Etta was relieved to see that the other two thugs that the boy had put down a few seconds earlier had gotten up and were running back to the truck sporting bloodied noses and bruises to come.

"I've already called the cops you filthy cowards," shouted out Etta after their retreating forms.

"Fucking bitch," cursed a short stocky man as he marched back to the truck, "Next time we meet I'm gonna cut your dirty spick eyes out of your head and feed them to my dog."

Etta's face showed her alarm as he cleaned something off against the bottom of his t-shirt and glint of silver sparkled under the glare of headlights. She couldn't stop a gasp of horror escape her lips and her dark eyes tore back to the boy, suddenly desperately frightened for him.

The squeal of burning tires snapped her gaze back to the road as the men that had forced her of the road took flight.

"Hijos de perras! Ése es fugitivo derecho usted los cobardes estúpidos," she spat out a few choice profanities at them as they disappeared with a blaring of the trunk's horn back into the inky blackness of the road ahead. "Filthy cowards."

Sam grinned weakly at her tirade before sliding slowly down to the ground smearing a path of red down the side of the Winnebago and heard the woman curse again.

'I got shanked by some little bastard barely reaching my waist with a bad haircut and really horrible tattoos,' thought Sam in disbelief as he pressed a hand against the free flowing wound in the small of his back.

Feeling numb, the pain not yet registering as his body started to shutdown, Sam realised that he had let the tiredness of the long drive take away his usual sharpness. All he could think of as the blood poured out of him that he messed up badly.

Wearily he struggled to understand how it had happened as he really thought he had taken the little man out, not sensing in his taller eye line that the short bastard had gotten back on his feet to reach out to stab him.

_Should have known to watch my back again especially after that little set too with Alf. Damn it to hell Dean is going to be so royally pissed with me. Again._

_And dad will chew my ass out big time for being greener-than-green for diving headfirst into a situation like that with no back up. Dumb really dumb move Sam Winchester. Look where it's gotten you now. Fucksville, that's where. _

"This really sucks," he muttered under his breath as the frightened woman dropped her cast iron frying pan to the dirt and sped to his side. She called out his name but he was unable to stop his heavy eyelids from shutting. The world went black as a feeling of extreme tiredness and the effects of blood loss dragged him under.

****

**_TBC _**

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_Sorry another cliffie (evil side of brain won out again) but all will be resolved soon hopefully with only another 2, may be 3, chapters to go! Still happily 'pimping the limp'. Reviews of course always welcomed – okay seriously devoured! _

_Ps. My Spanish like my Latin before is all googled so please forgive any glaring errors!_


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry about the late update but this chapter is a little bit longer to make up for the delay (in other words I just didn't know when to stop!) All disclaimers as usual apply & again all mistakes glaringly obvious or not are mine. I know the alerts are screwy as are the PM and I have no idea if anyone has received my thanks so let me just say one and all for all the positive reviews. _P.s._ _Windy tho' I'm still playing catch up gal as we speak...so bear with me_!

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 13: Metal staples and a blow torch**

No matter how hard she pressed over the wound it had no affect on slowing the flow of blood. It slid through her fingers sickly warm and slick telling her that Sam life force was literally pumping out of him in a dark spill into the sandy ground.

"Why can't I make it stop?" demanded Etta, before muttering again a desperate plea under her breath. "Please Lord why won't it stop?"

The pink bath towel she had snagged from the Winnebago was now sodden a dark red, proving to be more of a sponge than a pressure bandage as the wound continued to pump scarlet. Still she struggled as hope faded and she tiredly begged, '_El dios no lo deja por favor morir.'_

Etta started to whimper, feeling suddenly old beyond her years as she watched Sam dying before her eyes. Desperately she snatched a look up to the dark sky and cried out. "It can't be his time to be with you yet lord. He's just a baby. _Apenas un pequeño muchacho_."

The wail of an approaching siren heralded the arrival of the emergency services as if in answer to her prayer. In moments an ambulance flew over the top of the dip in the road and raced towards her.

Taking a long shuddering breath Etta let the soft tears of relief run freely down her face as the vehicle screeched to halt and she cried out her encouragement to an unconscious Sam, "There here _hijo_. You'll be okay now. They'll save you."

A thickset young paramedic jumped out with a medic kit in hand asking a dozen questions in as many seconds as he leant over Sam checking him over.

Etta found herself only able to answer the first few questions fired her way before the sobs started for real as her need for release from the nights shocking events took over. "Sam, his name is Sam. The _bastardos_ stabbed him because he wouldn't let them hurt me."

A second older medic was now kneeling over Sam turning him gently onto his side to assess the wound. His deep voice calmly detailed the injury. "Substantive knife wound to the left lower lumbar region. Extreme blood loss, maybe an arterial bleed. We need to set up a line and pump some of that volume back into him before he bottoms out."

Placing a pressure bandage over the wound the medic rolled Sam back onto a board, holding the side of his head back in case the knife had damaged the spine. "He's hypovolemic, pulse is thready, skin clammy, breathe laboured. Best call County and let them know they've got incoming."

Another siren entered the mix, this time the local enforcement car drawing to a halt. As the paramedics continued to work on Sam Etta found herself being led away by a young deputy to sit on the step of the Winnebago as she was asked her account on what had happened.

She could give only half answers as her attention was firmly locked on the two medics struggling to stabilise Sam but it seemed enough for the deputy who radioed the information back to the station.

Watching the medics work and seeing their grim expression she knew that the boy was slipping even through their expert fingers and she started to pray again under her breath.

Efficiently with only the odd comment as they worked they quickly loaded him onto a gurney before settling him into the back of the ambulance. Etta had jumped anxiously to her feet as she saw Sam disappear brushing past the restraining hands of the deputy. "Will he make it? He's so young please you mustn't let him die."

The older medic gave her a small non-committed shrug, "Ma'am I promise we'll do the best we can but we need to get him to County right away. You can follow after us."

Etta mutely nodded, flinching as the doors slammed shut and the siren screamed again as the ambulance started its race back to the hospital.

Still clutching the drenched towel in her trembling hands she offered it over to the deputy now standing in front of her confessing sadly, "He just wouldn't stop bleeding. There was so much blood, just so much….."

Deputy Gilbert blanched visibly at being offered the crimson sodden towel but took if off her shaking hands and put into an evidence bag before storing it in the trunk.

He could already guess where this was all heading but didn't have the heart to tell the clearly distressed woman. Even if by the slimmest of miracles the kid did make it there'd still be no case for him to pursue.

He held on to his job because he knew when to keep his mouth shut and with a second baby on the he wasn't going to fight the Sheriff to have the men responsible for this put behind bars.

It was too small a community not to know who the woman spoke off but with Sheriff Markham protecting their collective butts nothing would ever be done to stop them.

Seeing her eyes track after the retreating ambulance he said softly, "I'll drive you over to County if you like. We'll fill out the report later when we know how he's doing."

"No, no I'm okay to drive but what about his car? You can't just leave it here," demanded Etta suddenly determined to protect the boy and his belongings as best she could. She had experienced her own share of traumas in her life and she was pulling herself firmly together for the boy's sake as best she could.

"Its okay Mrs Adams I'll have it towed and made secure," answered Deputy Gilbert. 'It's the least I can do,' he thought bitterly as he mentally filed away his report knowing the paper one would disappear as soon as he left it on the Sheriff's desk.

**o0o0o0o0o**

Dean had held his tongue during the drive back to the small apartment that his dad had been renting since his accident. Still the silence between them during the short drive back from the hospital was deafening.

Glancing a look over at his father he clocked the closed expression on his face and knew that he was holding back on something but had enough patience to wait it out. Sooner or later his dad would let him know what was bothering him. If not he would worm it out of him after a few cold beers later on.

As they drew up outside the dilapidated apartment block Dean's face split open with joy at the sight of his beloved Impala gleaming brightly in the late afternoon sunshine.

"Looks like my baby is doing just fine," he crowed happily as his dad parked up the truck. Struggling out of the passenger side shooing away the offer of a supporting hand Dean hopped over to his car and stroke a hand lovingly on the bonnet of the black car. "Did you miss me gorgeous?"

John snorted and threw him a disbelieving look. The boy loved the Impala way too much for it to be natural. "Come on Dean lets get you inside. You can kiss the damn car later."

"Ignore the old grouch baby he just doesn't understand that I missed you too." Dean though followed his dad's instruction and walked slowly behind him glad that there were no stairs to climb as the apartment was on the ground floor.

On entering the small apartment Dean's nose wrinkled at the musty smell of stale food and takeout cartons that littered the place. "Looks like the maid hasn't visited you in a while dad or are we going for the shabby-chic look again."

John smiled weakly running fingers through his too long hair as he shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah well I'll clean up later. Mary–freaking-Poppins I ain't. Sit yourself down son before you fall down."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the threadbare sofa littered with newspaper clippings and research papers. His dad had kept himself busy whilst he had been holed up he reasoned as he pushed a pile of paper to one side before he sat down with a contented sigh and took the offered beer with an appreciative nod.

It had been an age since he had the luxury of doing anything but stare at the institutional white walls of the hospital and as crappy as this place looked it was a welcome exchange.

"So dude you still plan on going off to California to get your brother then?" asked John guardedly watching his son's expression for his answer.

Dean shrugged noncommittally, "Maybe. What that brat needs is someone to point out that you don't ditch family like he did. I might just have to beat that into his stupid head when I get hold of him."

John cleared his throat and took a long hard swig of his beer not able to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Not that simple is it though Dean? When I told him that if he left not to come back that's exactly what he decided to do."

"Yeah well let it never be said that my brother isn't one focused obstinate sonofabitch when the mood takes him," growled Dean acknowledging his brother's inherent stubbornness.

John shook his head desperate to tell his oldest boy the truth but the words kept getting stuck in his throat, especially when he caught the look of betrayal flicker across Dean's face when he spoke about his brother.

Studying the closed look on his father's face Dean senses screamed a warning at him, "You're holding back on something. Is it about Sam?"

John looked over his oldest throwing him a grim smile at his astuteness, "Things are out of control when it comes to that boy. He should have never had left us."

There was a long silence before he admitted, "You know it doesn't matter what I say nothings going to be the same again, not with your brother being the way he is."

Dean looked down at his beer bottle trying to hide the brightness of tears that threatened to spill but couldn't keep the hurt hidden from his voice. "As you say he left. Surprised though that the kid could be such a cold bastard. The way he's stayed all nice and cosy with Jennings while cutting me out like that was like taking a knife in the back."

At long last finding the necessary courage John admitted softly and waited for the explosion to come. "Listen son I should have told you this days ago but I could never find the right time to tell you."

Dean's head snapped up sharply at his dad's words, "Tell me the hell what?"

"Your brother isn't with Jennings. Not yet at least."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

As the minutes ticked by Etta Adams found herself sitting alone in a small waiting area in the hospital numbly wondering just what to do next if Sam did not make it. A virtual stranger had risked all to save her and she was determined to make sure that he was not left completely alone as he battled for his life.

She had struggled to stay alert, a litany of prayers being offered up as the minutes turned into hours but bone weary from the long day she eventually nodded off. It was the pressure of a firm hand on her shoulder that brought here jerkily awake.

A fresh-faced intern smiled at her as she locked darks eyes on him and he asked again. "You the family of Sam Huffman?"

"Yes," lied Etta quickly rubbing the sleep from her eyes instantly alert, "I'm his aunt, Mrs Adams. Did he…"

The doctor sensing what she was about to offered up quickly, "He came through the surgery Mrs Adams but your nephew suffered quite significant blood loss and deep tissue trauma to his back. It took a while to stabilise him and get the bleeding under control but he came through the surgery pretty well all in all. We've moved him across to ITU where he's going to be carefully monitored for a few days more."

"But he's going to be okay, yes?" demanded Etta eyes threatening to spill fresh tears this time of sheer relief.

The young intern nodded, "The next few days will be a critical time for Sam. Post operatively we have to watch out for complications like wound infection and possible further bleeding. Still your nephew is young and strong so I'm pretty hopeful he'll pull through."

"Thank god," whispered Etta grabbing the young doctor in tight hug of delight. " When can I see him?"

"We're going to be keeping him heavily sedated for a while longer Mrs Adams. When he does wake he's going to feel tired and weak and will be in a fair amount of discomfort. It will take a while for all that damage to heal. He has a tough few days ahead of him."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean's face drained of all colour after listening to his father's confession, "So all these weeks you've been spinning me a line? Feeding me a pile of bullshit?"

John Winchester sat on the wooden coffee table and leant in nearer to his son, dark eyes locking with green. "What should I have told you kiddo while you were laid up like that? That I didn't have a clue where that damn fool of a boy was or even what he was doing?

"But what gave you the goddamn right to keep all of this from me?" barked back Dean hoarsely. "I'm his brother…"

"And I'm your father. That's what gave me the right," growled back John Winchester in warning adding vehemently, "You would have driven yourself mad stuck in hospital the way you were. I couldn't let you suffer like that so yeah I lied."

There it is thought John with a sour smile of relief that the collective untruths were now out there in the open. Dean could now start hating him just like he already hated himself.

Dean finally put all the dots on the page together to make up the whole picture and his voice was ice as he asked, "So Sam never knew about my accident and all what you said after it was just another huge freaking lie?"

John top lip twitched as he watched the anger mottle his son's face. "I did what I thought best at the time. Sam wasn't around when you needed him the most and it was destroying you."

"Destroying me? Are you serious? Don't ya think this is a hundred times worse knowing that you fed me so many lies that I actually wanted to hate Sammy for them."

John flinched at the admission and Dean continued to stare belligerently at him before finally adding, "What part of wrong don't you understand here dad? He's my brother. My baby brother and I wanted to hurt him like I thought he'd hurt me."

"Dean please," countered John anxious to get back some control of the situation. "Don't you see I did all of this to protect you?"

"I don't need bloody 'protecting' when it comes to Sammy," snapped back Dean dragging a trembling hand over his face. "Hell it's my job to protect him and a bang up job I've done so far in that department thanks to you."

"God stop making so many excuses for the boy. Sam's the one that jumped ship and left us both high and dry." snarled back John not liking the acrimonious tone in his son's voice or being at the end of a verbal tongue lashing like this. "I told you he's doing just fine by all accounts."

Den spat out dark and ugly, "Fine? How the hell do you really know? Have you even tried out where he's got to yourself?"

John Winchester blanched at the suggestion. "You think I haven't tried every contact we've ever known to track down that boy? The damn kid is running silent shutting all of us out and he doesn't want to be found. I trained his sorry butt too well it appears."

Dean's mouth dropped open on hearing that his kid brother was actively keeping himself off their radar. It was another blow hard to absorb and also answered his questions on why his brother hadn't even left him a voicemail message since leaving. The kid was running scared of them all.

Laughing hollowing John broke the unnatural silence reminiscing out loud, "Near damn got my head blown off my shoulders back in Indiana by some crazy woman with a shotgun. Whatever Sam had told them they surely didn't take kindly to me turning up and telling them who I was."

Dean's ignored his dad's remarks his mind spinning at the notion that his brother really was out there alone intending never to come back. How the fuck had he let this happen?

John watched the struggle on his son's face and cursed himself for being foolish enough to think that he'd understand his reasons about why he had lied.

Dean as if reading his thoughts turned to face him and his voice dripped venom, "You are one sorry bastard you know that dad. You let me think that my brother didn't give a damn about me. That he was playing happy families with Aaron while I lay stewing in a hospital bed for six weeks all to 'protect' me."

John stood up and started to pace the floor, desperate to make his oldest understand. "If I have told you the truth what would you have done Dean? What the hell could you have done?"

Dean jumped to his feet defying a snatch of pain in his leg to match his dad's eye line again. "I'd have gone off to find him that's what,"

"Yeah well that wasn't going to be possible was it? You were hurt big time and stuck in that bed despite what you say now," snarled back John to Dean pointing down at his leg, "You needed the time to heal. Period. Time to get over the stupid mess you created by getting so distracted on your last job like that."

"Stupid? Distracted?" hissed Dean darkly not liking the implication being made at all by his father's accusatory words his bare hands knuckling into fists.

"You know what I mean so don't you dare act dumb here boy. You let your brother's leaving screw you over. That damn 'geist should never have had the drop on you like that. I trained you better than that and you damn well know it."

There was a fractured silence as both men stared at each other angrily both full of ugly venomous words that could damage each other more than any physical hurt once let out.

John suddenly reached out and grabbed his son's shoulders in a tight grip trying desperately to hold on to him. He needed to turn the level of guilt back onto his brother again before he lost everything. "Listen I know I made mistakes but so has your brother. He's the one that left us. What hell do you want from me here?"

Dean limped out of his dad's reach battling the need to let fly with a fist, "You should have told me the goddam truth."

"The truth would have killed you. You were hurting even before you busted up your leg because Sam left you, left us behind. Remember that son."

Dean shook his head in denial and John spat out bitterly, "Don't make me out to be the big baddie in all of this Dean. Your brother is the one spinning out of control running of to do fucking normal."

For his part Dean acid-tongued spat back as all the emotions he had held in check since leaving Michigan spilled out, "You really still don't get it do you old man? Sam's not just running to college he also running from you."

John's carefully controlled visage cracked at the stinging words. He knew his baby boy was running away from him but to hear the truth spill from Dean's mouth was like taking a punch to the stomach. "Don't you think I know that? That my boy hates me so much that he'd even leave you behind to be free of me."

At feeling his father's pain radiate outwards Dean stilled and answered softly, "No he's never ever hated you dad. Might not have liked you at times but he never stopped loving you."

Slumping dejectedly onto the sofa John buried his head in his hands struggling to keep his emotions in check, "I wanted to tell him so many times just how much I loved his scrawny beanpole ass but the words never came out. It just got too difficult with us both."

_Too difficult since Farnborough when I thought I'd left him behind to die to save his brother over him. Too difficult to speak of it again to the boy knowing the damage I'd done and not once tried to repair. It had all become all too bloody difficult other than to let the boy go in the end._

Not privy to his father's private thoughts Dean felt the anger drain from him and threw him a knowing smirk, "Not one of the best Winchester traits is it dad this hard macho exterior we like to project."

John shook his head his voice gruff as he answered, "Wearing your heart on your sleeve in this business will get you killed. Have to keep things buttoned down tight it you want to stay alive."

Dean huffed tiredly, "Unlike Sammy, eh dad? Never was his way. The kid was literally screaming out for us both to notice him this last year but we just didn't see him at all did we?"

"It went both ways Dean. He never told us anything of his plans did he? He's the one that decided that hunting is not good enough for him. That he doesn't want us anymore."

There was an uncomfortable pause as Dean listened to his dad's tired response and he finally admitted out loud, "This is all royally screwed up big time. We all missed the signs with that kid and now its too late. Sammy's never come back to us is he dad?

John nodded and in a hoarse whisper admitted, "No dude he's not gonna change his mind. Your brother thinks he really doesn't need us any more."

**o0o0o0o0o**

"Dean?" croaked out Sam expectantly as the blurry figure standing over blocked out the overhead light. As his eyes slowly focused he frowned up in confusion, as the man hovering over him was most certainly not in any shape or form his big brother.

The reed-thin middle aged man with glasses was so far from looking like his brother that Sam let out a small giggle at thinking that he could mistaken for him and he whispered out in accusation, "You're not Dean."

"No young man I'm Dr Bryant your surgeon. You were admitted two days ago with a knife wound to the back and I'm the one that stitched you back together again. Just checking over my handy work as is my wont."

"Patchwork Sammy yet again. Yippee. Dad would have been so proud!" chuckled Sam though there was an undercurrent of petulance that went with his words.

Writing an eligible scrawl on his chart Dr Bryant cocked an eyebrow at his reaction. For someone so young he sounded decidedly bitter. Then again he reasoned to himself he wasn't the one sporting one hell of a nasty knife wound to wake up two days later in ITU. Life wasn't exactly playing fair with Sam Huffman perhaps.

Anxious to see just exactly where he was Sam tried to lift himself off the bed by propping himself up with his elbows. What followed was an intense ripple of pain that shot through him so fierce that he bit down on his bottom lip to stop a full-blown cry from escaping.

Turning accusing eyes at the surgeon Sam managed to gasp out as he collapsed back on the bed, "What did you stitch me up with up? Metal staples and a blow torch?"

Seeing his discomfort the doctor leant forward whispered something under his breath and then the whirr of the PCA machine by his bedside increased and the warming effects of morphine hit Sam's bloodstream and he collapsed back on to the pillow. "This should help with the pain. You may feel a little woozy."

"Hate the stuff," Sam admitted under his breath as he started to float under its all-encompassing affects. The pain may have lifted but the fog surrounding his thoughts increased and he shot an accusatory look up to the doctor as its effects took hold, "Next time give me a couple of aspirin."

Dr Bryant couldn't help but chuckle at his patient's testiness but still left wondering how or when he had become so personally acquainted with the effects of opiates. "Its just for a day or two to take the edge away."

"S'fine. Feed me what you like, just so long that I can be in California by the end of the week. Gotta fix me up quick doc." drawled Sam softly though his eyes remained focused enough waiting for the doctor's response.

Dr Bryant took a deep breath and shook his head. "California is going to have to wait a bit longer. You sustained a deep penetrative wound to your lower back. A few millimetres more to the right and it would have been a completely different story being so close to the spine. You were very lucky Mr Huffman, very lucky indeed."

Sam sucked in a knowing breath then sunk deeper into his pillow and sighed deeply, "Lucky hey? I'll tell that to the stitches in my back when I get a chance to look in the mirror,"

"You not spending the rest of your life in a wheelchair makes you are a very fortunate young man in my book," answered Dr Bryant truthfully.

Sam laughed cynically, "Luck would have been best served if I had stopped that redneck tattooed midget from stabbing me in the back in the first place."

Dr Bryant looked at Sam seeing perhaps the first signs of a post anaesthetic depression setting in and tried to offer some encouragement, "Look I know it's hard for you to think positive right now but you made it through when the odds were really against you."

Sam just huffed a response and the doctor added, "Anyway you best know that your aunt has been pacing the halls with worry so I'll show her in next. I don't want you to over exert yourself so take it easy. I'll be back tomorrow to check on your progress."

Sam frowned but held his tongue as the doctor ushered in the plump Hispanic lady he had tried to help two nights before and giggled again once more as the absurdity of it all hit home, "Auntie Etta? Now this really is a surprise!

Etta Adams smiled back warmly in relief at her would be protector thankful just to see him awake. Shaky legs took her to Sam's side she sat down besides him taking his hand she squeezed gently her thanks, the need for words not important as her dark eyes spoke volumes at him.

"I'm sorry about the little fib about being your aunt but the stupid hospital administrators were going nuts when you came in and I didn't know if you had any insurance. I told them you were my nephew and they let me sign all that paperwork stuff for you."

"Thanks," grinned back Sam weakly realising he had no way to scam the cost of this admission himself. Dad and Dean always sorted out the insurance before he realised sadly. "I owe you big time Mrs Adams."

Etta shrugged as her Eddie with all his investments had left her financially secure and her insurance cover was healthy enough to stretch to her newly acquired nephew.

Squeezing his hand again she whispered, "I owe you more believe me Sam. I didn't know who to contact back in Indiana but I can ring home now for you and let your mom know what's happened. It may be a bit of a shock but at least I can tell her that you're going to be okay."

Sam swallowed hard and shook his head as the image of Connie Huffman flashed in his mind. No need to worry the Huffman's again with a phone call he told himself having caused them enough grief with Michael. This was something he could deal on his own.

More importantly the reasons for him going to California were still the same knife wound or not. After his last admission with the Huffman's he swore to learn his lesson and keep himself under his dad's killer radar.

Finding his voice he finally answered, "Its okay Mrs Adam there's no one to ring as my mom's dead."

**o0o0o0o0o**

They had fallen into a familiar pattern as soon as they left Detroit. His dad led the way and he followed. It was the way it had always been.

After the revelations about his brother he had been sorely tempted to up and leave and chase after him but deep down he knew that his dad was the one that needed him now. Seemed like dad had touched all bases when it came to hunting down the kid. Caleb, Pastor Jim and hell even the Professor all the way back from England where all actively searching his sorry ass down. Not a lot he could do so far behind. Not now he told himself.

At the end of the day he was a hunter just like his dad. Sam may not want to be apart of this life anymore but this was all that he knew. This was what he had been trained to do and he just couldn't walk away from it. Not even for his little brother.

Driving was still proving a bitch not that he was going to admit that to his dad that and by the end of each day he could barely crawl out of the Impala never mind walk. Now as he lay on top of the bed he massaged the top of his thigh trying to ease out the dull throb that still persisted an hour after they had pulled up for the night.

As he sipped on his beer watching his dad deeply absorbed in the research in front of him he was reminded of how much like Sam he really was. Both so wrapped in soaking up every scrap of information that they both were virtual libraries of information.

Finally he asked out loud as he lay propped up on the bed with a cool beer in his hand willing for the ache in his leg to disappear, "So you think the little runt is there yet?"

John shrugged without looking up from his research papers, "Like I said before Jennings will let Pastor Jim know when your brother finally turns up. Sam's more than likely found him another girl to shack up with for a while."

"Gross dad. That kid better be keeping himself and the family jewels safe if you get my drift."

Turning his head to look at his son John raised his eyebrow in concern. "Jesus Dean I thought you'd gave him that lecture about unprotected sex?"

As Dean's face fell open John laughed, "Don't you worry about your brother he's not going to be making any little Sams' for you to worry about. He's way too smart for that."

"Like I said totally gross," muttered Dean back, not appreciating his dad's warped sense of humour.

The fact that they had even dared talk about Sam's sex life just felt wrong and he quickly changed the subject. "Have to say I expected more from Caleb. It's been almost a week since I escaped the hospital and still he hasn't caught up with Sam. I'm telling you he's lost his edge if he's letting that dumb brother of mine get past him."

John studied Dean's face and saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes. "He'll catch up with him soon enough. The man's a veritable bloodhound when it comes to tracking. Like I said your brother is laying low, more than likely found himself another girl and is biding his time till he needs to be in California."

Dean frowned realising his dad was just fobbing him off again, "Yeah so you keep saying. But what if he's not dad? What if he's gotten himself into some sort of trouble and is too stupid or pigheaded to let us know?"

"That brother of yours is going to give you an ulcer if you keep thinking like that. Let it go. We have a big job to do tomorrow and you've gotta concentrate on what's important here dude."

"Sam is important," snapped back Dean defensively, not letting his dad distract his thoughts away from his brother. "You don't know that he's safe and we're sitting on our butts letting others do the job that we should be doing. Sam's our responsibility. No-one else but ours."

John sighed and knew where this was going and quickly asked, "You want to go after him? You want to chase across the country to California? And then what? It isn't gonna a change a damn thing even when you do find him. Sam's plans don't include you or me anymore. He's made it clearer than clear that he doesn't need us anymore."

"Yeah but maybe I need him old man," whispered Dean as he stood up and shrugged on his jacket. "Maybe I just need to see that he's okay."

"Where you going?" asked John suddenly afraid of what Dean intended to do. Maybe readying to run out on him just like Sammy had dared to do.

"I need a break from this dump and we need some ready cash. I saw a bar two blocks down." As he picked up his car keys he threw his dad a knowing look and added. "No need to wait up."

John watched Dean go, the limp still evident in his leg, and threw the papers in his hand down onto the table biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from calling after him.

Going over to the small fridge he took out another beer and drained half of it in one long chug, saluting the empty air as he growled, "Damn it Sammy you're killing us both here son."

**o0o0o0o0o**

Nurse Summers shook her head again, "Now Sam just like I told you an hour ago you're not going to be discharged till we get you all sorted. You've thrown a bit of a temperature and we have to try and bring it back down."

Sam blinked at the finality of her words but stubbornly refused to give in despite the lethargy sapping at his bones and the heat starting to burn his skin, "You can give me some oral antibiotics and some painkillers and I'll be fine. I've dealt with worse."

"Sorry to hear that son. Really I am," answered the tall nurse with a knowing look on her face at the boy's confession. She had seen some pretty impressive older scars on him and knew it wasn't an empty remark.

Patting his hand she added. "Listen there are no magical pills I can give you that's going to fix this up for you overnight. Stop fighting me here and accept that it will take some time for this all to get better."

Anxious to prove her wrong Sam struggled to sit up but the following hiss of pain forced through clenched teeth only served to prove her very much right. Even moving more than a fraction caused a spasm of agony to tear through his back.

The world spun dizzily and his vision went grey as his body demanded release from the torture stabbing through him. Being a Winchester no matter what the name on the plastic bracelet on his wrist said he tried to ride out the fire stabbing through his back.

Fingers gripped tightly into the bed sheet as he determinedly tried to get through each new wave of pain that pulsated through him but it was a losing battle. Within seconds his breathing stuttered into small tight gasps and no matter how much he willed it the pain wasn't receding, only increasing, till his whole body was slick with sweat and trembling with exhaustion.

As he struggled just to breathe he desperately wondered why the pain felt ten times worse than what he had woken up to in ITU two days ago. It should lessening by now not getting freaking worse he reasoned.

Nurse Summers reacted quickly at his distress and the familiar warmth of morphine worked its way down the IV line and the pain receded to a more tolerable level. As she lowered his head back on the pillow she shook her head, "You're not making this easy on yourself kiddo."

She continued to check his lines and monitors noting with a worried frown as his temperature spiked even higher. Guessing at the cause she rolled her now more compliant patent onto his side to check his wound. It was red and hot to the touch definitely showing signs of infection.

Shaking her head she pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over his face and sighed, "Looks like that whatever you got stuck with wasn't as clean as we would have liked it to be..."

Sam moved restlessly under her touch still struggling to remain awake but the medication was too strong and together with his increasing fever his eyes started to droop heavily. "That's right give in for once and rest up. Let us help you through this."

"Don't wanna sleep…" slurred Sam as his eyes continued to close losing the battle against the effects of the drugs now flooding his system, "S'not fair. Wanna see Dean but gotta stay gone….Don't wanna see me anymore."

She watched him slip into a drug-induced slumber and saw the tension lift from his young face. It was going to be one hell of a long week ahead for both of them she admitted to herself if the kid didn't stop pushing himself like this.

Shaking her head she wondered what sort of demons were driving this boy onwards in such a bloody-minded fashion. He wouldn't rest when his body craved it. Wouldn't ask for pain relief when his whole body shook for the release from it. Wouldn't ask for anything but to get out of the hospital when awake or for this person Dean when tossing in an a less than restful sleep.

Readying to get a doctor to check the wound over she wondered just who this mysterious Dean character was the boy kept calling for in his sleep but refused to talk about when awake. If she could drag his sorry butt to this poor boy's bedside she had a feeling that hemight just try to rest up a bit more and heal just a little faster.

**o0o0o0o0o**

**TBC**

_**Next chapter virtually finished! Caleb is on the trail of Sammy literally just a collars length away from yanking him back into the fold whilst all the while our poor matronly Etta has her hands full with a too wilful Sammy. Oh and yes things come to a crunch with Dean and John…**_

Googled translations:

_El dios no lo deja por favor morir_. Please god don't let him die

_Apenas un pequeño muchacho _Just a little boy


	14. Chapter 14

As usual all disclaimers apply! Feedback warmly welcomed. With the alerts and this site being royally screwed recently I think all my personal thanks got sucked into a blackhole so let me just say mega thanksto all for the kind words of support Rozzy.

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 14 – Miserably numb**

Staggering back to the motel past one in the morning stinking of sour beer and a face covered in congealing blood Dean did not make a pretty sight. John for his part had snapped instantly awake and then into action when his son stumbled back into the motel room.

With a quiet efficiency he worked on his son's battered visage all the while sucking back condemning words as he listened to the incoherent mutterings from his son about 'five of them and some freaking ninja with a pool stick'.

As he worked fixing up his son his stomach clenched and unclenched in fear. Dean had really pushed his luck too far this time and sported a myriad of cuts and bruises that were going to look a hell of lot worse by morning. His boy surely had managed to have the tar kicked out of him by the looks of things.

"So you let them beat on you and didn't think of calling me?" John finally snapped out unhappily as he assessed whether his boy's face needed stitches from a bad cut on his left eyebrow.

"Nah, I had it under control old man. See." Dean waved a thick wad of dollar notes under his dad's nose with blood stained teeth glinting wide in a smile of satisfaction. "Those idiots may have started it but I sure as hell finished it."

Dean fell into an alcohol-induced slumber as soon as John laid his hurting body onto the bed, butterfly stitches in places covering the gap in his eyebrow that the pool stick had taken a chunk out off.

As he watched his oldest drift off John knew that it wasn't just the fact that his boy had hustled a game too many that hurt him now. Wiping off the remainder of the blood drying on his face John trailed a finger over the outline of his Dean's face and bit back a small soft sob of regret. Sam leaving them was hurting them in ways he could have never had imagined and his eldest was now on self-destruct mode in the process it seemed. Everything was slowing becoming unpicked and falling apart.

Shaking his head he stood up and threw away the bloody face cloth in the waste bin and rinsed out the bowl in the small hand basin in the bathroom ridding them both of the gory evidence of what Dean had managed to do to himself.

He stared back at the reflection in the mirror and hardly recognised the man staring back. Dark shadows stained the skin under his eyes and with a week's worth of stubble on his chin he looked frighteningly old.

"Screw the damn hunt Johnny boy," he whispered to his reflection before pressing his forehead against the chill of the glass. "Tomorrow you get this mess sorted out once and for all."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

It had been a long couple days but thankfully now her young patient had gotten past the crisis of a post surgery wound infection and fever. Infuriatingly though she knew he would be doing so much better if she could only get his stubborn ass to eat something.

As she stood at the foot of the bed and waved the tray in front of him Nurse Summers hoped this would do the trick. "Come on Sam I snuck this in from home. My hubby makes a mean lasagne."

She knew the food on the ward wasn't the most appetising at times but his blanket refusal to touch any of his meals had her concerned for him and she had thought this might do the trick.

Sam for his past looked disinterestedly at the tray in her hand before he sunk back into the pillow and shook his head, "Thanks but perhaps later. I'm just not hungry right now."

Pursing her lips Nurse Summers knew by just looking at his sullen expression that she wasn't going to win the battle this mealtime. As she took the tray away she added over her shoulder, "The sooner you start eating the faster you'll heal mister and the faster you'll get out of here."

Sam eyed her retreating back and shifted slightly on the bed burying his face into the pillow. Deep down he knew that he should be making more of an effort but every time he forced something down it just made him feel sick to his stomach.

As he lay there the beeps emitted from the slew of monitors he was attached seemed relentless. Every time he moved they sounded out reminding him that he wasn't free to leave. The IV lines running into him feeding him pain medications and a whole range of other drugs only added to his feeling of alienation making him feel half asleep most of the time.

Fingering absently the line running into his arm Sam knew what he needed was something more substantial than food or sympathetic smiles and syrupy encouragement from all and sundry.

There was a need deep inside of him that he just couldn't verbalise. The absolute need to do this on his own as the small fractured boy inside of him just couldn't endure his dad's censure-ship again. He had survived everything that Farnborough could throw at him and still that hadn't been enough for his dad who willing had left him, the weakest child, behind to die. So easily it that he still felt too raw to deal with even now.

Staying gone was the best and only option left open to him now and as at least that way he'd no longer have to listen to a barrage of disapproval at being a royal screw up yet again. Farnborough as bad as it was had taught him well. Give nothing to John Winchester that he could or would use against you.

Struggling to get into a comfortable position he curled carefully onto his side, ignoring the pull on the slowly healing wound in his back and the pain it brought with it. The constant throb helped to anchor his thoughts and his misery intensified.

Etta for her part hovered in the doorway hoping that finally Sam's deep reserve was starting to crumble. It was painful to see him holding everything and everyone at bay these last few days. Such wilful self-control was surely only managing to hurt his recovery.

The boy was one enormous puzzle she had come to realise fractured into so many different pieces she doubted she'd ever see the complete picture from all the parts he kept hidden.

Studying him she realised that all she really had ever gleaned off him was a starting point of Indiana, his name and the end destination of California that he seemed so hell bent on reaching. There was no other information to fill the gaps with.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

No how matter how quickly he stumbled away he couldn't shut out the noise chasing after him heavy with accusation. The snarling voice of disappointment kept screaming a familiar message at him and his heart shrunk with each new beat. All he could do was try and run from it but his father's dissatisfaction with him was just too vocal to shut out.

_No son of mine lets himself get stuck like a stupid pig like this. You really know how to shame the name Winchester. Goddammit boy stop being so weak and just suck it up. Little bit of pain builds backbone. Why couldn't you have been more like your brother and less of a disappointment to me? It's a good job you left us when you did or you would dragged us down even further. You know you'll never measure up. Don't ever come back. _

With his heart now pounding a large resounding thump-thump in his ears as he ran blindly down the long empty road familiar signposts flashed past his eyes as if taunting him of all the places he had screwed up in his life. Benchmarks signalling his failures as a son for John Winchester and all he could do was keep on running.

His lungs burned for oxygen but he didn't dare stop as the enraged voice kept snapping at his heals pushing him further away from the one figure he really wanted to run to.

Dean had always been his safety net but his brother remained firmly fixed to the spot receding to just a small dot on the horizon till there was no brother to see to go back to anymore.

'_Stay gone' the voice continued to scream at his back. 'Don't think you can come back. Stay gone.' _

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

"Damn it the kid's having another bad turn," remarked Nurse Summers to the colleague besides her as the station monitors beeped a warning at her.

As she entered the room his body and face was slick with sweat masking his dark hair wet to his scalp. Again there were the familiar muffled cries that came from him whenever he dared to dream.

Tangled up in the snaking wires and leads he had managed to twist and pull some of them out in his nightmare so that various high pitched alarms now sang out as he called out desperately, "Dean. Please…!"

It was firm hands that shook him awake and Sam lurched upwards his eyes snapping open in alarm. Breathing heavily he hissed at the pain that followed at sitting up so abruptly his back protesting at the pull on the wound. Through clenched teeth he breathed through the agony and slowly it eased to something more manageable till it became just a sharp throb in his side.

Warily he looked to see whose hands were on him and the familiar sight of Nurse Summers nodded grimly back at him. Throwing her a thin smile of thanks Sam let himself be guided gently back down on to the pillow more than a little embarrassed by his display.

"You've pulled your line out again." Summers cajoled him as she set about to clear away the mess. "I might just have to superglue this into place if you keep on throwing these little episodes of yours."

"Sorry," whispered Sam as his breathing started to ease off to a more natural level. He closed his eyes shutting out the sight of her reinserting the line again and rolled slowly back onto his side to shut her out in the process too.

The nurse patted his shoulder as she finished up throwing a quick look at the doctor waiting to inspect him further. "Okay Sam all done now. Dr Mendon's here just to check you over now at the end of his round."

Sam didn't react his mind picking over the images his recent nightmare had left him to mull over. It wasn't until Dr Mendon coughed loudly by his bedside that he turned gingerly back again his expression neutral ignoring the reassuring smile of greeting.

Goddam doctors and their cold hands were never a welcome sight he had come to realise.

"So young man lets just check you over and make sure you haven't pulled those pretty stitches Dr Bryant put in for you," laughed the doctor softly at his side clearly amused by his own perceived witticism.

Sam glowered back at him but nodded his assent. Ignoring the medical chatter around him as the doctor talked to the nurse he told himself he was giving this just one more day then he intended to get out of this place if his legs would carry him.

As the doctor finished checking the wound he asked Sam directly, "You suffered from night terrors for long? Or you just exercising your considerable lung capacity again Mr Huffman? I heard you halfway down the corridor…."

Nurse Summers threw him such a vicious look that it made Dr Mendon wince and he threw her a toothy smile to sooth her ruffled feathers. Damn it the kid sure was bringing out the 'Mother Hen' syndrome with some of the girls he realised just a tad too late.

Sam at hearing the doctor's question shook his head in denial. "Just a stupid dream, not anything to write home about."

"So you say. Anyways it looks likes the wound is healing satisfactorily now. No further signs of infection and the sutures are holding nicely. How's the discomfort level now?

"Fine," snapped Sam through gritted teeth as the doctor continued to probe the wound area, "You can stop pumping all that morphine crap into me. Told you all I hate the stuff."

Dr Mendon nodded his understanding "It serves a purpose but if you feel you can cope I'll have it discontinued and have something else prescribed."

"No thanks, don't need any more rubbish in my system," snapped back Sam as he hooked eyes with the young doctor fiercely as if daring him to disagree.

"Well we'll see how that goes shall we," huffed the doctor as he made a note in his chart to stop his IV pain medication.

Sam smiled hollowly at that small victory and asked hopefully, "So seeing that I'm doing so well when do I get out of here? Tomorrow right?"

Dr Mendon grimaced and Nurse Summers gave him a small smirk knowing that he was in for another battle of wills with the patient. "Not tomorrow I'm afraid. Maybe by the end of the week if you continue to improve and the wound stays clean and your blood work improves."

The glare was back in Sam's eyes as he refused to accept the doctors recommendation, "Its getting better you said so yourself so why can't you just give me what I need orally then I can be on my way."

Shaking his head Dr Mendon threw him a sympathetic smile, "Your haemoglobin levels are still low. You've also just fought off a pretty bad wound infection leaving your white cell count still elevated and the risk of further infection is always a possibility. It would be irresponsible of any doctor to let you go under those conditions."

"Its not as if it's rocket science changing a stupid dressing and takings some meds. I know how to take care of myself," growled out Sam unwilling to back down.

Dr Mendon took a long deep breath before responding, "Listen your body suffered a severe trauma and despite what you say that wound still hurts like hell. Just give it till the end of the week and I promise I will do everything I can to chuck you out of the doors then if you're well enough."

"He's not going anywhere fast till he starts eating again." shot back Nurse Summers. "Those giraffe like legs of his need something to keep them from wobbling when he gets back on his feet. Gotta start eating kiddo if you want to make your great escape by the weekend."

Sam gave her a petulant stare before sulkily rolling away from them both still determined to get out of the hospital sooner than the weekend.

Dr Mendon raised an eyebrow and threw a questioning look at the nurse. She shrugged and mouthed silently having two of teenagers of her own at home. "Kids!"

**o0o0o0o0o**

Slipping into the room she knew Sam would rather be left alone but she was as obstinate as he was and refused leave the boy to his misery. Besides she couldn't ignore the lost look in his eyes especially on learning about his unsettled night.

From the healthy looking boy she had first met Sam now looked so much smaller as if he was collapsing inwards and she was at a loss to know how to help him. Today she hoped if she pushed hard enough he might finally open up about on what demons were chasing after him.

"Hey Sam," Etta whispered in greeting drawing a hand over his forehead drawing back the heavy lock of hair from his face. "A bad night I hear. More dreams eh?"

When Sam didn't respond she stroked his hair again as if he was one of her own sons, "Is it about those miserable cowards and the stabbing? Is that what your dreams are about?"

Sam sighed finally acknowledging her presence with a small shrug, "Nothing to do with that. Had worse than being stuck with knife before…."

Etta sucked in a breath at his confession but continued to stroke his hair daring to believe that he was going to open up to her. "So what do you need then Sam. This not sleeping and not eating isn't helping you get better you know."

"Don't need anything but to get out of this place," answered Sam resentfully turning away from her touch and swamping compassion adding cryptically, "Anyways not as if anyone can stop time and make things right again is it?"

"What do you need to make things right Sam?" queried Etta gently, ignoring his attempts to turn away from her touch her hand now resting firmly on his shoulder. "What do you really need here son?"

Sam sucked in a breath and dared look back at her, "Need?" He paused and Etta waited expectantly before he shook his head in denial and he closed himself off again, "Like I said I don't need anything."

Etta clucked her tongue as the boy looked sharply away from her attempting to shut down the conversation. "You're a bad liar Samuel. If you can't or won't tell me how can I fix things here for you?"

"Nothing left to fix," commented Sam in a small aching whisper and Etta knew that yet again he deflected all her attempts to open up to her.

As she watched him shutdown again she felt utterly useless. Nothing she said or did was making the slightest difference and it really did feel like she was constantly banging her head against a brick wall with the boy.

Nurse Summers fresh to her shift came in with the breakfast tray and watched Etta get up to leave and threw her a supportive smile. Sam still lay there without any interest not even acknowledging her departure or the hurt he had caused her and she realised the boy was even more down than yesterday.

Deciding on a firmer approach than yesterday she slapped the tray down by his bed and Sam instinctively flinched. Raising his bed up she noticed that he no longer showed any discomfort and maybe the pain was subsiding enough for him to regain his appetite.

"Come on Sam. I really do need to see you clear this away this morning. This manorexic look is not very attractive I can tell you especially for some one so tall like you."

"Huh," queried Sam a frown of confusion still feeling groggy from the sedation forced on him after his continued nightmares during the night. His eyes darted round the room looking for a familiar face. "Where'd Etta go?"

"Gone to recharge her batteries for the next round. You're really giving your aunt a beating here."

Sam ducked his head down and a blush of guilt coloured his cheeks. "Sorry. She doesn't need this crap does she? She'd be better going home than hanging around here."

"Seems like your aunt is as stubborn as you! So like I was saying you're all skin and bones and you need to bulk up if you ever want an out of this place," the nurse whispered knowingly at him.

Sam eyed the cooked breakfast congealing on the plate and his stomach roiled. Half heartedly he scooped up a watery forkful of scrambled eggs but the smell and texture was too much and the fork clattered back on the plate again and he pushed the plate unhappily away.

The nurse saw his face go grey and guessed that the choice of cooked breakfast hadn't been her brightest decision that morning. "Okay the scramble eggs here suck but there has to be something that you'd like instead."

She picked up the offending tray and put it out of his eye line. Returning back to him she asked, "What was your favourite breakfast as a kid? My girls loved toast with honey cut into soldiers when they were poorly. Surely there's something else you'd like that I can get you?"

For the first time in days she was rewarded with a weak smile as he offered up a response, "Lucky Charms. Dean … he'd always get them for me. Said they gave me too much of a sugar rush though."

Nodding her head in relief that she had managed to actively engage him for once she threw him a bright smile in reward, "Right then Lucky Charms it is."

The nurse returned a few minutes later with a fresh tray and Sam looked warily at her. "Come on Sam. You get through this one bowl and I'll promise I'll leave you in peace till lunchtime."

As he eyed the floating mass of cereal and marshmallows he felt an emotional tug in the pit of his belly at the familiar sight. It was a reminder of what he had always called home no matter how many times they had moved. The box of Lucky Charms in the kitchen cupboard or trunk of the Impala always followed them around and meant simply home.

Slowly as he forced the first mouthful down and the sweetness rolled over his tongue a flood of images hit him taking him back to a time when he had felt safe and truly loved. As he continued with the next spoonful he was not ashamed to let the tears run silently down his face the sugary cereal a reminder that not everything in his life had to be forgotten.

As he struggled to keep on eating it felt as if a comforter had wrapped around his shoulders letting the memories of happier times and easier days settle back inside him. It really didn't matter how far he was from his brother he could still have these recollections to cling to and with it came back hope and a sense of purpose.

Nurse Summers watched Sam continue to eat glad to see some sort of emotional release taking place. It had been a long few days but at last whatever inner turmoil he had held in place he was letting go of now.

Satisfied that he was starting to lift out of his depression she left him alone, just grateful that something as simple as Lucky Charms had worked some sort of catharsis on the boy's well being.

As she stared to write in his notes she could only imagine what this Dean character might have been able to achieve if he had been by his bedside these last few days. Still this one small victory as she eyed Sam continue eating is what made her job rewarding.

**o0o0o0o0o**

As Caleb finished filling up he walked slowly over to the gas attendant photo in hand. As liked the last few days he soon walked back to the car none the wiser as to where the kid had got to as no one in the whole freaking state seemed to recall a tall gangly youth in cherry-red mustang driving through.

Playing catch up with the determinedly elusive Sam Winchester was frustrating the hell of out of him now. Dourly he realised that the boy must have holed up again some place where the light of day didn't shine because he was having no luck at all in tracking him down.

It didn't help that Sam was running with a purpose and was smart enough to stay under most normal radar but now the kid was starting to make him look bad.

At least the boy seemed to be taking the most direct route when he connected the dots on the map but the last sighting of him had been days ago.

When he spoke last to John he seemed to take this latest news in his stride assuming the kid was following in Dean's footsteps and was trying to attain a new girl for each state he passed through.

Man-whore Sammy was never something he could imagine or ever want to get his head around he admitted with a wry smile. Dean he recalled with a small chuckle on the other hand already deserved that reputation in at least thirty states that he could think of.

No, thought Caleb decidedly, whatever had managed to waylay the youngest Winchester wasn't some new girl. His gut kept screaming a warning at him that something hinkey was going on with the kid and he didn't like it one little bit.

As he sat mulling things over he knew the trail had run itself deliberately cold as if Sam had parked up inside a black hole. That sparse trail of breadcrumbs that had initially drawn him to Oscar's bar were now all gone and what he couldn't see he couldn't follow after.

Sooner or later he told himself irritably when he did catch him up with Sam Winchester he was going really smack him upside the back of his head for leading him on this merry dance. One thing for sure was that Sam was John Winchester's son down to the very tip of his toes when it came to being too bloodied minded for his own good.

**o0o0o0o0o**

Toes touched the floor gingerly and on contact with the cold tiles his body momentarily shivered. Determinedly he forced himself upright praying for his legs to support his weight and was rewarded by standing unaided for the first time in almost a week.

Sam chuckled lightly under his breath at his success and pulled himself up taller ignoring the snatch of pain fizzling in his back. The line in his arm tugged together with the pull of various leads on his body that snaked back sneaking data to various, all of which he purposely ignored.

Smugly he knew that if he could stand it meant he was fit enough in his own mind to get out of County. Dimples appeared in a wide smile and he ignored the trembling in his thighs as he carefully twisted back to the head of the bed and bent slowly over the bank of monitors and one by one shut them off.

The silence that followed was glorious and he hurriedly pulled out the line out in his arm ignoring the stinging sensation and pressed down with a clod of tissues till the blood stopped dribbling out. It was a small price to pay he reasoned if it facilitated his exit from that this pink walled room that much quicker.

All he had to do next was to force his leaden legs into full action mode as standing wasn't exactly the same as walking.

Sucking in a long deep breath he picked up his holdall that he had talked Etta into bringing to the hospital and almost toppled forward as the weight of it caught him by surprise. He chuckled to himself realising that he must have packed too many books when he left Michigan and it was now proving a real hindrance to his fragile health.

Putting out a bracing hand on the wall he willed the woozy sensation in his head and the heavy feeling in his legs to subside before he managed to stoop down and dug out some clothes to change into.

Shuffling like a man of ninety Sam made it to the bathroom without falling but the effects of the journey was written clear on his sweat-drenched face.

Dressing proved just as tiring but as he struggled with the last of the buttons to his shirt he clocked a look in the mirror and threw himself a knowing smile. "Gotta keep moving kiddo, don't let that Dr know-it-all stop you from getting your butt out of here."

Picking up a small towel he patted away the drops of perspiration dripping of his brow, nose and chin before running trembling fingers threw his damp hair. Satisfied that he no longer looked like he was about to keel over he dragged in a few small steadying breaths before leaving the bathroom.

As he pulled open the door he came to an abrupt halt at seeing the none too impressed Mrs Adams standing in front of him tapping one foot agitatedly with her arms crossed firmly across her ample bosom barring his way. 'Shit, shit, shit', was all he could he think of as he saw her dark eyes stab into him.

"Just where the hell do you think your going young man?" demanded Etta clearly furious with him. She knew from the moment she had given him the holdall that it meant trouble but what she hadn't expected was just how fast the boy planned to make his escape.

Sam quickly recovered from seeing her angry form baring his way and threw her a dazzling smile ignoring pointedly the angry stare and bent down to kiss her cheek lightly, whispering in her ear. "California Auntie Etta."

Startled at his kiss she touched her cheek a little amazed at the transformation that had taken place. Gone was the sullen depressed boy of earlier and its place was the boy she had first met. Tall, bright eyed and brimming with life this was what she had been praying for to see for the last few days and her heart skipped a beat or two.

Sam studied her for a moment longer and saw the threat of tears in her eyes and knew he was the reason behind them. Gently he confessed, "Thanks Mrs Adams for everything. Even when I was a real brat you didn't give up on me. It means a lot to me. But now I really do have to get going here."

**o0o0o0o0o**

Aaron picked up the phone and couldn't keep the element of hope out of his voice as he realised who was calling. "Hello Mr Huffman this is about Sam right? You've heard from him?"

Aaron whispered in his head, '_Please God let it be.'_ and there was a moment's silence before a small cough shattered his hopes as Dave Huffman offered up his news. "Not directly Professor Jennings. I received a check and a small note in the post this morning from the boy."

Sucking in a confused breath Aaron asked, "Well that's mighty peculiar. What did the note say?"

The farmer could understand the concern in the older man's voice, "I'm afraid it was only a few lines. He said that he thought we could make use of the money and to buy Ronnie the pink tutu she's been nagging us about. That he was okay and would ring us when he got to California."

"And the note said nothing else? Anything else to help us find him?"

"Well the headed paper he used was from some car dealer in New Mexico," admitted Dave. "I rang the dealer just now and he said Sam sold him the mustang two days ago and scribbled this note making him promise to post this on to me."

"Did he give a reason why Sam sold him the car?" demanded Jennings his stomach churning into knots of worry .

Dave shook his head, "Nope. I can guess why he sent the money though. Farming isn't easy at the best of times and last winter was hard on us. Must have heard us talking about things in general and just assumed we needed the money. Truth is he's right but still it doesn't sit right as the car was a gift."

Jennings with the cogs in his brain spinning at breakneck speed now asked, "So just what exactly did this salesman say when Sam sold him the car?"

Dave confessed softly, "Nothing much just said the he walked in sold him the car and made him write out the check to me and then post it on."

"He didn't part traded it for another car?" queried Jennings. Selling the bright red mustang was a logical choice for the kid to make if he was still trying to stay under John's radar.

"No sir and he made the check to us for the full amount. Just how is he planning to get to college now?"

Jennings sighed down the line, "He'll either fly or take the bus I guess. Its only a short hop over to California now for him."

"Yep," grunted Dave softly in return, "Lets just hope he gets to Palo Alto soon and rings home or I think our Ronnie will burst soon with frustration."

Aaron sighed before getting back to business. This new lead was something Caleb could look into now. "Can I have the address and number of this car dealer. I have friend nearby who can go speak with him direct."

**o0o0o0o0o**

The small chunky man in his polyester blue pinstriped suit was nauseating gracious as Caleb walked around the car lot with him.

Playing the detective card seemed to work well with the man who was eagerly falling over himself to tell him everything, "Well like I said this gangly kid came in and offered me a deal on the mustang that I couldn't refuse."

"So did he haggle a price? Tell you why he was selling it?" queried Caleb.

"Nope on both accounts Sir. Just gave me the figure he wanted all business like and where he wanted the check to go to. Once we shook hands it was over and done with in five minutes and then he was gone."

"So he drove the car in and sold you it in a flat five minutes." asked Caleb eyeing the man warily for any deceit, "What name did he give you?

"Why the same as the name as on the check. Huffman," the small man innocently answered.

Why the same as the name as on the check. Huffman," the small man paused and added. "Though he didn't drive the car personally. Some lady with him did."

"Lady? What did she look like?" demanded Caleb tersely wondering just who had their claws in Sam this time round.

Caleb glanced up at the CCTV camera but his hopes were instantly dashed when the salesman shook his head. "Things been busted for a whole month now and the management's just too plain mean to get it fixed."

All business Caleb turned his attention back to the sweating man the midday heat too much for his polyester suit clad form. "This woman describe her to me."

"Older woman about sixty. Latino I think though I didn't really get a good look at her as she stayed outside as we finished up the paperwork. The kid didn't hang about and left as soon as the last signature started to dry on the paperwork. Is he in trouble? The car wasn't stolen, right?"

"Yeah you're fine man the car is legit. So one final question did you see them leave together?" asked Caleb already walking back to his car when the man started to shake his head.

"No like I said I was too busy finishing off the paperwork my end. The car was a beauty that's much I can tell you. Didn't hang around on the lot more than a day before some yahoo bought it. Sweetest deal I've had all month."

As he climbed back in his car Caleb cursed out loud realising that Sam had used the farmer's name openly here and maybe not for the first time since leaving Indiana. Not liking the idea that the kid had been right here and slipped past him again he quickly left the car lot and made his way to the nearest library and started a local search under the farmer's surname.

When the first concrete hit came back on the farmer's name his initial frustration with Sam instantly evaporated to be replaced with one of sheer panic for the youngest Winchester. The local paper with its small two paragraph mention of a stabbing on the highway in the local paper made his heart freeze.

Expertly he hacked into the local police database and his heart stopped again. The impersonal two-page report made it hard to believe that it was their Sammy involved in a near fatal stabbing. Caleb dry mouthed read the description of boy and car and knew without any doubt that it had to be Sam. The freaking warning bells that had been clanging in his head this last week had been sounding for a reason.

Making his way at breakneck speed to the County hospital he easily scammed his way through the various departments till he garnered all the information he needed.

The name of the woman Sam had been admitted under matched the same as that as the one on the top of the police report and for the first time that day Caleb smiled. This Marietta Adams character would be somewhat easier to track down than Sammy Winchester had proved to be he hoped.

After getting hold of his admission notes and medical records Caleb winced again at learning just how close Sam had gotten to be an unclaimed body in the local morgue. Then the final hand written scrawled in his medical notes that said the boy had left against medical advice made Caleb recoil and he swore out loud. "Against fucking medical advice Sammy. Just what were you playing at?"

Those stubborn Winchester genes were winning out yet again and he growled out loud, "Hell Sam why do you keep pushing on like this? Why can't you just stop running long enough to let us damn well help you here kiddo."

By the time he parked up outside of the Sheriff's office Caleb was more than a little angry at how the kid had ended up in the hospital and could feel the growing need to kill something, somebody, taking root deep inside.

Slipping on his jacket and a tie he transformed himself into Special Agent Brown determined to find out just why this unsolved stabbing remained in some backwater Sheriff's filing tray. When he did get the information he needed then he was going to track down the ones responsible for hurting youngest Winchester and deal with them in his own unique way.

By the time he had slipped out of the sheriff's office armed with a first hand account from Deputy Gilbert and the names of the men he thought involved he was more than ready to kill the racist scum that had threatened an old woman and stabbed an innocent boy. His little Sammy Winchester.

Caleb threw the evidence bag he had snagged off the deputy on the passenger seat and cast a quick eye at its contents. Swallowing hard he noticed the towels original colour, a small corner of pink left visible. The rest was stained a dark crisp maroon by Sam's blood and his lip curled in cold undiluted fury.

As he gunned the engine he rummaged through the glove compartment and pulled out his .45, checked the cartridge and then slipped the muzzle of gun into the back of his waistband. It felt cold against his skin but he didn't care, the fire inside of him soon warming the metal casing.

He'd take care of things in New Mexico first he told himself as he could afford the few hours it would take to hunt down the human garbage who'd hurt the boy and then he could go chasing after an old lady in her Winnebago.

He fingered his phone wondering whether to call John and the others and let them have this latest news. Grimly he reasoned that until he had Sam firmly back in his sights it was best to keep his mouth firmly shut.

This way too silent Sammy that had emerged after leaving the shadow of him family seriously had him worried though. Did he really think that he had no one to turn too? If he did then John really had done a number on his youngest and he wondered other than the physical wounds he was sporting what other damage he'd find when he caught up with him.

As he pulled away from the Sheriff's office he grinned darkly. Time to go hunting some really bad men and make them understand their errors of their ways.

**o0o0o0o0o**

It had frustrated the hell out of Sam that he wasn't able to continue driving on to California but physically it just wasn't possible. Hell he had barely been able to walk out of the hospital never mind drive a shift stick mustang the thousand odd miles left he'd have to cover to get to Palo Alto. Flying too wasn't an option as the doctor told him clearly as he discharged himself that it was too soon after surgery for it to be safe.

Limited by his choices he thought of staying in town a little longer to heal up but that would eat into his money too fast and he really needed to get himself sorted out in California before the term started. Getting rid of the mustang had been his only logical option and in a way it felt good giving something back to the Huffman's, even if was just a check. Nothing ever could match the overwhelming support he had gotten from them. Not ever.

On learning of his intentions to carry on Etta had insisted on driving him back to California despite his protestation and he was more than secretly glad. The prospect of a long uncomfortable bus journey had not been pleasant thought. Even now in the Winnebago with the comforts of a pillow at his back and heat packs the pain and discomfort continued

As they travelled through the night the first splat of a raindrop on the windshield caught his attention followed by flash of lightening streaking through the dark sky. Startled he jerked upright only to hiss under his breath trying to ignore the fire stabbing in his back. The clap of thunder that followed rattled through the vehicle and he tensed up again.

Never a fan of lightening storms he tried to swallow down his fear and nervously he licked his lips counting under his breath the space between each fork of lightening and the thunder that followed.

Etta threw him a concerned look and he smiled reassuringly back at her, the dimples once again evident despite his fear. "I'm okay Etta. Just surprised is all. Came on pretty damn fast, eh?"

Nodding her understanding Etta forced her attention back on the road the darkening conditions signalling the power of the storm to come as another fork of lightening illuminated the interior. "Looks like some downpour Sam. Mother nature is surely a wonder at times."

"More like some freaky scary tempest," admitted Sam as the night sky was lit up again and the winds started to gather strength buffering the Winnebago as it sped down the deserted highway.

Etta grunted as the vehicle became harder to manage as the conditions worsened.. "Hmm…. well I'm gonna pull us over for the night as soon as I spot the next turning. You need your pain meds and some beauty sleep and besides my ass has gone totally numb."

Sam laughed softly at her statement before nodding his agreement, "You're the one in the drivers seat Mrs Adams numb backside or not."

**o0o0o0o0o**

TBC 

No cliffie! See what a week of rest can do with the warring hemispheres of the brain….


	15. Chapter 15

_As usual all disclaimers apply! Even more sadly is that fact that all mistakes glaring or subtly snuck in are all mine. Little warning about language as those Winchesters and Caleb certainly do have potty mouth at times! Again big thanks for the continued feedback and hope I got back to everyone to say my thanks. Rozzy_.

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 15 – Calling home.**

As the deluge increased Etta slowed incrementally down eyes scanning anxiously for signs of the next exit of the highway. The thunder boomed overhead and the whole vehicle rattled and the vibration that hit the steering wheel jangled through her.

Another flash of lightening arced down and the whole road lit up for a nanosecond and she sucked in a breath of alarm as the lightening seemed intent on bouncing down the road ahead of her. 'Lord stop scarring the crap out of me here.'

From the corner of her eye she could see Sam's tired form tensing with each bright flash littering the night's sky and knew he needed more than just a break from the storm and the journey. No matter how he tried to disguise it any unplanned movement in the seat would cause him to bite down a twinge of pain or elicit a soft hiss of discomfort. Discharging himself against medical advice despite what he might think didn't make him a superhero and his damaged body craved rest still.

"Quite spectacular scary eh Sam?" remarked Etta as another bang of thunder rattled through the vehicle. When he didn't answer she voiced out, "Listen honey as soon as I see the next exit I think we need to stop. You okay with that?"

Sam nodded this time followed by a soft yawn, his eyes heavy with the need for sleep. In the following minutes not even the storm in all its glory could stop his head from eventually rolling forwards as he fell into a light slumber.

As she eyed Sam thankfully succumbing to sleep Etta hoped it would do him some good. But after a few miles like before in the hospital disturbed mutterings soon peppered his rest, moments when the word of one person kept coming regularly to his lips. When he eventually jerked awake as another brilliant flash lit up the night sky the name was still being voiced and he looked awkwardly around trying to gather his bearings.

Finally taking the bull by the horn Etta dared to ask above the roll of thunder, "So call a me nosey old woman but just who is this Dean? I don't mean to be pushy but in the hospital when you had that fever you kept on asking for him and just now you asked for him again."

Sam's mouth pursed into a momentary tight line before a resigned sigh escaped and he looked at her with those way too expressive eyes of his reflecting some inner pain that made her suck in a small breath as he confessed. "He's my brother."

Etta stuttered out her disbelief, "On lord, you have a brother? Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would have rang and let him know what happened."

"No," snapped back Sam quickly desperate to put an end to the conversation, "It wouldn't have been right."

"Not right? I though you had no family. Now you tell me that you have a brother and he shouldn't have know that you'd been hurt," returned Etta in disbelief. "What sort of brother wouldn't want to know that?"

"Please Etta," pleaded Sam softy really not wanting to open up any more as this was just too painful to go into again. "Dean's one hell of a brother. Its just that I went off to college all on my own and he really doesn't need to know any of the crap that followed since."

"Excuse me but you came close to dying and you think your brother didn't need to know?" demanded Etta appalled at the notion that the boy thought his stabbing was only a minor problem for him to deal with on his own.

Sam felt the energy that had kept him upright dissipate and he drew in a shaky breath. "I hurt him when I left for college. I didn't want to but now there's no going back. Just let it go."

"Let it go! Just like that? You're telling me that going to college caused some sort of rift with your family. How?"

Sam head dipped away from her gaze and he shrugged. "It was never in their plans for me and when I got this scholarship they were really mad at me. My dad made it very clear that if I left for college I was to stay gone."

Etta couldn't believe what she was hearing and spat out in disbelief, "What? I don't understand Sam. You mean your family, your father, disowned you for getting into Stanford. That's just plain crazy."

Sam for his part smiled grimly at her shocked expression and shrugged again. "Not crazy when it comes to my dad. The family business always comes first. Nothing else matters - nothing."

"No surely your dad must have been proud of your scholarship. Of you?"

Shaking his head Sam felt the words stumble out of him, "Proud of me? That was never on the cards. I was never the son he wanted me to be, never good enough to stand by his side. That's why it was easier for us both in the end that I left."

Swallowing back her own discomfort for the boy Etta shook her head in disbelief. "So did you guys even try to talk this through before you left?"

Sam blinked hard before giving an indifferent shrug, "Nah, there was no point as he already made it quite clear what he thought of me. Besides you don't speak to a man like my dad, he barks out the odds and the only response he wants to hear is 'Yes Sir'. I think the only time he actually spoke to me these last two years was to chew my ass out for being a screw up."

"And your brother agreed with him. Didn't he try to stop this from happening," wondered Etta sadly.

"No, no, no. Please understand Dean's always been a great brother, the best, but deep down he truly is his father's son," whispered Sam blinking back the burn of unshed tears. "He would never do anything to disappoint dad or go against him and I'm sure he felt the same ways as dad did. That I was never going to measure up."

"So you really just left home and headed for California. Have you even tried to ring home or your brother since you left? You say your brother's the best but in my book if either of my sons cut one off like that I'd be as mad as hell," spat Etta appalled at how easily Sam's family had let themselves shatter apart.

Sam came to his brother's defence again, "No I hurt him deep down wanting to leave for college. He virtually raised my sorry ass since I was a baby and all he has ever cared about is family. Like dad he sees what I have done as the ultimate betrayal and he won't forgive that. That's why I can't ring him. Why rub more salt into open wounds…"

Etta grunted in understanding as she swung the Winnebago off the highway into the exit lane adding softly, "Sounds like you're a little scared to even try Sam. Did you not think that your brother needs to hear from you just as much as you need to talk to him? That he might just be a little worried at you going off on your own like this especially if he's the one who looked after you growing up?"

Sam chewed on his bottom lip struggling desperately to deal with Etta's telling words and finally he admitted his concerns, "Say if I call and he doesn't want to talk to me. Then I really will have lost him and what dad said will really be true. That I don't have a brother anymore."

Blue-green fragile eyes stared at her imploringly and Etta only found the strength to answer as honestly as her voice would allow. "Oh Lord child don't you see that this not knowing is hurting you more. Seems to me that you really do need to just try and talk to him."

Sam took a long steadying breath and slowly nodding his agreement eventually acknowleding the wisdom of her words with a wide dimpled smile of thanks, "Gotta any loose change for the phone?"

**o0o0o0o0o**

Caleb pulled up stilling the engine as his sharp eyes travelled down the small dirt track that the truck had swung into. At the bottom of the road was a small shabby wooden house and as he waited he watched the four men in the large truck traipse out lugging cases of beer.

These were the same four men that he had purposely watched as he sat supping his beer in the shadows of the bar five miles back and listened in on their conversation. Men that offered up enough snatches of information to confirm their connection to Sam and to slow the anger inside to icy cold as the need to hurt them took over.

Taking a long steadying breath he watched the men get out of the truck before he closed his eyes for a second steeling himself for the violence to come. It flared easily inside him as memories flickered through his mind of the reasons why this needed to be done.

A swirl of images kept him focused. Of a deliciously happy toddler clinging to his leg as they played aeroplanes demanding, "Higher Cal, higher."

The toddler had soon warped into an annoyingly bright seven year old boy telling him the wonders of the universe as he shoved his latest science book in his lap before allowing the statutory tickles and cuddles to take place.

This was all before his most startling transformation took place as the shorter than average geek became the lanky teenager with attitude that left them all stunned. The quiet boy and turned into a demanding youth with enough fire in his belly to keep on asking those pesky questions that John never wanted to have asked nether mind answer.

It had just proved that the boy was never going to be just a follower of words but the maker of them. Words that his damn father had never learnt to listen to and now look at the mess it had gotten them all into.

Rubbing a hand jadedly over his mouth he wondered if he'd been wrong to not at least call Dean and tell him about his baby brother but that was a whole can of worms he wasn't prepared to face right now. All he could do now was to finish up his business with the four goons in the house and then he could get to Sam and try sort out some of this mess for both brothers. Then and only then could he dare to think about ringing Dean.

With a grunt he reached over to the glove compartment and pulled his gun and out a large hunting knife. It glinted brightly and felt familiar in his hand as he exited the car. Caleb as he started his approach to the house knew that the men inside were lucky it was only himself coming a-knocking.

It was the smallest one that he wanted to deal first hand with and the blood in his veins turned to ice as he knocked on the door with the butt of his Glock. That little bitch of a man really did need to understand that he was damn lucky it wasn't someone with then name Winchester that came visiting right now.

**o0o0o0o0o**

The storm as they drove into the gas station seemed thankfully to be fading fast and armed with a handful of change Sam sought out the nearest phone booth. Nervously he dialled and waited with a suspended breath for his brother to pick up. Now he had made up his mind to call he was more than desperate to hear his brother's voice again

The husky voice that answered made him flinch in shock, "John Winchester here."

Sam struggled to draw in a breath at hearing that familiar distinct voice down the line. Dean, he needed to speak with his brother and wasn't prepared mentally or physically to shout out the odds with his father right now.

"Is Dean there?" he managed to gasp out finally.

There was a pause before John barked out, "Sam is that you?"

The elder Winchester looked quickly over at Dean who was still sleeping of last night's encounter and in a few quick strides he took the call outside. As the silence continued he growled out, "You finally finished playing at happy families with those damn farmers and the likes and decided to call home?"

Sam stilled and tried to keep the tremor from his voice as he asked determinedly again. "Is Dean there?"

"He's sleeping off a hangover. You screwed him over royally pissing off like that. Not that you'd care. Right?"

"I didn't want to hurt him….." Sam confessed bitterly but couldn't continue as his body shook so badly he had to lean against the booth's wall to stay upright.

John for his part took his son's hesitancy as belligerence and countered, "You knew what you were doing when you walked out that door. Don't act like you give a damn now."

John still winced as his words flew out of his mouth because he was desperate to ask how his baby boy was doing but instead found himself spitting out words fuelled by too many desperate nights filled with anger and worry to stop himself.

When Sam kept up his silence he reacted again, "Sounds like you've been having a high old time by all accounts and you didn't once think of what you'd done to your brother. Did you ever think of him while you shagged up with some girl you selfish brat?"

There was a painful pause as Sam finally whispered out, "I did like you told me. To go and stay gone…"

"Yeah that's what I said didn't I…" countered John before he could stop his tongue.

The connection broke and John blinked back his shock realising that Sam had hung up on him. Horrified that his mouth had taken over and driven his son away again he shouted out, "No! You stupid bastard"

Frantically he searched Dean's phone to see if he had a number to dial back. When he saw the area code he hesitated for a few seconds nursing the cell phone in his hand before pressing the return call option.

"Please pick up Sammy. Please son." he begged out loud only to get the busy tone beeping at him till finally the line went dead. He tried it again and got the same response. "Damn it son….when did you decide to listen to me? You never used to before."

Hastily he called another number. "Yeah Caleb its me John. Sam just called. He's in New Mexico."

"Yeah I know he's about a day ahead of me I reckon if I stuck by the speed limit. What did the boy say?" demanded the younger hunter, flexing his grazed knuckles absently as he walked back up the dirt road to his car. Hope flared that Sam had told him of his hospital visit and that finally all of the family would find a way to heal together.

"He wanted to speak to his brother. Nothing else," answered John frankly. For all his hard-shelled bravado he couldn't deny the pain at knowing that his youngest had made it clear it was Dean he wanted to speak to him and not him. "The kid certainly knows how to wound a guy."

Caleb had his hopes dashed that the Winchester family were about to do normal as John's words hit home and he dared to ask, "So what did you say? Please tell me that you didn't screw this up John?"

"I wasn't prepared. Not for the call, it took me by surprise and I sort of lost it when he kept on asking for his brother."

"Lost it? Of for godsakes you didn't shout the odds at the kid like you usually do did you?" Caleb growled out his heart aching for the kid before daring to add. "Did you even ask how he was?"

John dragged in a steadying breath feeling the accusations vibrate down the line. "Jesus that boy has hurt his family Caleb and I just couldn't let him think that his walking out on us like that didn't do damage to his brother. When he flung my words back at me about 'staying gone' I couldn't stop myself."

Caleb cursed out loud, "That's when he hung up. Right? You're an idiot, a really stupid fucking moronic idiot. That boy will not ring again you know that right? Any chance you had with your son you just screwed up big time."

Defensively John answered, "He didn't want to speak to me. Like his own father meant nothing to him…"

Caleb snorted down the line, "Now you know how you made him feel about himself. Like freaking nothing. When did the kid become your verbal punching bag?"

"You're wrong, I've never touched my boy. Hell even when he had the sassiest of mouths I never laid a finger on him."

Caleb felt the skin on his knuckles split afresh as he held the steering wheel tighter. "No, you never touched him. The kid must have felt like a freaking leper the way you shied from any physical contact with him."

"What the hell do you mean?" snapped back John feeling the pang of guilt rising like acid up his throat already aware of where this was going.

"Do you even know the last time you touched that youngster of yours? When did you give him just a mere pat on the shoulders in praise or affection like you give Dean."

John shuddered at the suggestion, "Oh god not this again. You and that bastard Jennings must have been comparing notes or something. I've never played favourites with my boys. Never."

His mind was racing though over the accusation trying to desperately to remember when he had last had physical contact with his youngest. The only time in recent memory was the night he found out about Stanford and he had ended up slamming the boy into the wall in anger. Not one other memory came to mind since Farnborough other than when the boy lay sleeping in his hospital bed. Only then could he reach out and physically dare to touch him without the burden of guilt crushing him. The coward in him had kept him permanently shut off since then.

Caleb as if reading his thoughts growled out, "Yeah you can lie to yourself as much as you like Winchester but your son surely knew the truth didn't he? The kid might as well have died in that damn house judging by the way you treated him ever since."

"Don't," demanded John in warning hating the damn house's name being brought up again. "You don't' get to tell me this. You don't know how hard it was thinking your boy is dead and having to let go. Sammy knew what I had done and has hated me for it ever since."

"That stupid kid never hated you. God I wish he did. All he wanted from you was too feel good enough to be your son. Funny thing is that your boy should have been asking were you good enough to be his father."

Swallowing back his guilt John admitted, "So I make the top ten of bad fathers of America, I get it Caleb really I do. Look just find my boy and get him to call again."

Caleb ignored John's request, "Are you even gonna tell Dean that his brother called?"

"In the morning. Dean had some trouble tonight. He's not dealing well with Sam and everything. Please when you catch up with my youngest just get him to ring us again."

Caleb shook his head, "Don't hold your breath on that one. Sam's taken enough of a mauling you bastard. That kid will have wised up enough now to know when not to come back for another licking."

"Caleb I ordering you to get him to…."

Caleb wasn't prepared to take orders any more, "No you listen up when I do catch up with the kid I'm taking him to straight to Aaron. You don't know the half of what Sammy's been through."

"What the hell does that mean?" snarled John out loud but the flicker of alarm made him swallow deeply.

There was a long pregnant pause before Caleb admitted, "I found out today that your boy got stabbed and almost bled to death before the doctors were able sew him back up all good and new again. Worst though he's done the usual Winchester thing two days ago and discharged himself. AMA."

"Shit," whispered out John his heart freezing in his chest at the news. "How the fucking hell did he let himself get stabbed?"

Caleb couldn't control the anger burning inside him at the man's gruff reaction, "Yeah as always swing the blame back on to the kid. After all it must have been his fault in getting shanked in the back protecting some old dear who was getting beaten on by four guys. Right?"

There was a small pause as Caleb took in a steadying breath adding bitterly, "Hey not to worry though I've sorted those bastards out. They're not going to be troubling the likes of our Sam Winchester ever again."

John felt his knees buckle and he sunk down onto his haunches as the feeling of utter desperation took over, "Damnit what about my boy? How is he really?"

Caleb snorted out his contempt, "You might have found that out for yourself if you'd bothered to just ask the boy."

John for the second time that night had the phone hung up on him and this time he couldn't stop the tears from flowing. How could he have not heard the plea in his son's voice and ignore it to vent his own hurt and anger? Jesus what sort of man had he become that his son would have rather had died than to call him? Caleb was right he realised bitterly the boy was better of with Aaron.

**o0o0o0o0o**

Sam let the phone slip through his fingers so that the receiver clattered against the glass panel as he cut his dad off. The words so final, so damning '_Stay gone'_ screamed over and over in his head so that he now finally understood that he really was on his own now. No more family to fall back to. Not ever.

Now the finality of losing his brother hit hard like a physical blow and he had to hang on tight to the phone casing as the strength drained out of him. There really was no way to fix this now as judging by his dad's condemning words his brother hated his sorry ass as much as his dad did.

As the phone whined at being off the hook all he could hear was his heart pounding in his ears as his whole body shook and his legs trembled in rebellion. This had been a mistake he knew now letting Etta's suggestive words offer up hope when all the time there had been none.

Swallowing down the bile he slowly fought against the desire to collapse to the ground and cry. Putting back in place a mask of control he tried to stand straighter a sudden determination fighting back against his dad's damning words. All he had left to hold onto was himself and that meant he had to remain strong. Become more than his father had ever expected of him.

Realising bitterly at just what a fool to even try to contact his brother he walked stiffly away from the phone booth ignoring the pain that flared in the wound in his back as it was merely secondary to the pain shutting down his heart.

_No tears he warned himself. Not ever. You've got to live with this now. Deal with it. You stay gone and become your own man Sam Winchester. No more stupid tears. _

Etta watched him walk back over and saw his closed expression. Biting her bottom lip to stop her fears for the boy spilling out she guessed that the call had gone badly as his face was devoid of any emotion.

His look chilled her reminding her so frighteningly of the face he had worn when he had fought against the doctors and nurses. Cold, determinedly so, set on a path of internal hurt that no one could ever touch.

The next day or so was going to be hell on earth she surmised as he crawled into his seat without a word. The sooner she could stop and get them both a room for the night the better.

**o0o0o0o0o**

With the right kneecap completely blown along with his jaw, broken ribs, internal bleeding, shattered left cheekbone, lacerated kidneys and broken collarbone the man was a mess. Someone had seriously given him a working over thought Nurse Summers as she read through his chart as she stood at the foot of his bed.

The stocky bald headed man could barely see out the slits of his grotesquely swollen eyes whilst his jaw newly wired made it impossible for him to speak. He was not a pretty sight but what had caught her attention was the array of tattoos he sported over his wounded flesh. Distinctive, very distinctive markings and she couldn't help but be reminded of the description she had heard Sam Huffman give another Deputy about a 'bald headed midget with tattoos.'

His companion in the adjoining bed looked almost as bad, though he at least had been left with the power of speech and Deputy Gilbert dutifully listened to his account. "The dude was fucking crazy you hear me. Fucking crazy. Barged into my house cussing us out for some kid he thought Snake had shanked. Shot me in the fucking foot, beat me round the head and stuff and then stuck the largest scariest knife I've ever seen in my life through my hand straight into the kitchen fucking table. I thought we were all dead men. Honest too goodness dead. "

Deputy Gilbert looked up over his note pad with a raised eyebrow. "So you're telling me one man, just one man came into your house and beat the crap out of you and your mates before doing all of this your buddy?"

"Yeah he pistol whipped Mark and Tommy out cold. Took them out so fast I didn't know what was happening till the bastard shot my big toe freaking off. That's when took me out of the game and set about Snake. Kept saying that this was 'For Sammy' I really thought the dude was going to kill us all. The guy was nuts."

"So did he say anything else whilst he was well um beating the living daylights out of you both?" asked the Deputy really enjoying the questioning. It wasn't often he got to see scum like Hudson and Snake get a taste of the violence they usually dished out on others.

"Yeah he said that we were lucky it was him giving us a beating because if some guy called Dean ever caught up with us we were all dead."

Deputy Gilbert couldn't stop the small half smile that ghosted across his face as he jotted down the information. Half the state knew these guys because of their fearsome reputation and one man had taken all of them down in a matter of minutes. As he eyed the pink urine in the catheter bag Deputy Gilbert looked at the mute Snake and felt a spark of satisfaction. The bastard was going to be pissing blood for a very long time after the beating he had taken. There was justice after all it seemed.

He threw a knowing look at the nurse who raised an eyebrow and couldn't keep the glint of satisfaction out of her eyes and knew she was sharing the same thoughts.

Nurse Summers had listened in and had managed to disguise her surprise at the confession from the battered man by keeping her gaze firmly on the chart in front of her.

Her chat with that handsome Agent Brown earlier in the morning about the Huffman boy came clearly to mind. His apparent concern for the boy had at the time been tinged with the thought that it was a pity no one had been around two days earlier to keep that boy from discharging himself against medical advice.

Now it seemed like he cared an awful lot judging by the state of the two men in front of her. The two men in the bed would be taking a hell of lot longer to get out of the hospital than Sam Huffman had she noted with grim satisfaction.

**o0o0o0o0o**

Aaron had sat down as instructed and listened with his heart in his mouth as Caleb filled him in on the full story about Sam. His first instincts were to grab his car keys and head off in a race to New Mexico but he had listened to reason and knew that when Sam was found he would need a home to come to.

He hadn't realised he was crying till his voice betrayed him as he asked, "God Caleb how soon do you think you'll catch up with Sam?

Caleb could hear the distress in his friends voice, "Hey Aaron he's going to be alright. I'm flooring it and I'll find him soon enough. Anyways Sam's got himself another woman swooning and fussing over him. That kid sure knows how to bring out the mothering streak in all those gals out there."

Aaron in return laughed weakly, "Giving Dean a run for his money with the ladies I hear. That boy was always a fast learner,"

"Those pretty eyes and girly hair are quite an effective weapon at his disposal I understand," smile Caleb in return, "Look old man can you let Jim know the deal. I have my hands pretty full right now as the weather is being a real bitch."

"Sure laddie and thanks you for sticking by the boy. I just want him safe. You know?"

"Yeah I do, the kid's like family Aaron. Always will be."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean could have sworn that there were a bunch of evil little sprites slamming into his skull with vicious pickaxes. No one could be in so much self-induced pain and live he thought.

If he had the ability to reach his hand inside his skull he would have garrotted every one of those evil sprites and tried to go back to sleep. Finally a groan was forced out as the pickaxes kept cracking on his skull and he turned over hoping to see a welcome glass of water. Through blurry eyes he instead found his dad sitting on the opposite bed dark eyes studying him lost in thought.

Dean didn't know why but instinctively he knew something was wrong. Looking harder he frowned in alarm almost certain that his dad had been crying as his eyes were red rimmed and decidedly puffy.

Dean swallowed back his fear. His dad never cried. Not ever. Through bruised lips he dared to ask, "What's up?"

"Get your stuff together son were heading off to California," whispered John hoarsely in response.

"What? Is it Sam?" demanded Dean as any lingering effects of the alcohol or the fight from last night vanished as he saw the tremble on his dad's lips. "Dad?"

"Your brother rang last night. On your cell and I picked up. I went a little crazy and I, well damnit to hell words were said and he hung up."

Dean swung his legs out of bed and stood up in a rush to grab his phone battling down the annoyance he felt towards his father. "Shit! So what did Sam say? Where was he? How is he?"

"He didn't want to speak to me, only you. He rang from some payphone."

Dean looked at his father and knew how much it had hurt him to admit it. "Dad where is he?"

"New Mexico on his way to California. Caleb has him in his sights. In less than half a day he will have caught up with him then he's taking him directly to Jennings."

Dean hissed at the idea of Sam being whisked further away from him. "After all these weeks you're just going to let Caleb take him to the professor? This is our chance to get him to change his mind and come home."

"Dean listen we'll go to California. I have a job in Oakland anyways, but don't hold your breath if your expecting Sammy to come with you. Your brother has made his choice very clear and he's cut himself totally out of our lives now."

"You don't know that," snapped Dean angrily in return. "He called me after all this time and it has to mean something right?"

Cryptically John answered his eyes glittering dangerously again, "Sammy didn't call us when he really needed us the most. He's let strangers help him other than asking us to be there for him. The boy hates me so much he didn't ring even when…."

Shaking his head John stood up not able to take the confused and pained look his oldest son was giving him. Gripping the edge of the table he felt the cold stab of failure hit his heart as he finally stuttered out, "I called Caleb after your brother hung up on me. Seems like Sammy got hurt a little over a week ago. Stabbed in the back helping an old lady out of some trouble."

Any color in Dean's face immediately drained and he reached out and spun his father forcibly back around. "Jesus, my little brother was hurt? How? By what?"

"Nothing supernatural just some red-necked yahoos out gunning for an easy victim. Caleb said it was bad for Sam for awhile but he managed to discharge himself two days ago and is going to California with the lady he helped out."

Dean's mouth felt unnaturally dry as he garnered the broken look on his dad's face. Clamping a firm hand on his shoulder. "When he rang did he say any of this to you? Do you think that's why he called to let us know? Maybe he wants to come home now. Maybe…"

John shook his head and Dean bit his lip worried at what he would hear next, "I told him to stay gone remember. He reminded me of that and I didn't let him think anything else. I blew any chance with my boy the moment I picked up the phone and shouted the odds at him. I should have cut out my own tongue than let him think that."

Frantic now with worry for his brother Dean shook his head in denial, "Aw shit man he'll ring again and we can make things right. Once Caleb gets to Sammy he'll make him call again, you just wait and see. He needs us dad now more than ever."

Weakly as his legs could no longer support his weight John sagged down on to a chair and buried his head in his hands, "No Caleb's not gonna pressure your brother to call us as he's spitting bullets in anger at me and I don't blame him. Why couldn't I just have asked Sammy how he was? I just didn't know, but I should have sensed he was in trouble. Yet all I could do was shout at him and made him feel like he I didn't care. My beautiful baby boy thinks that I never loved him."

Unable to hear his father breaking apart like this Dean stormed out of the room. He had his own swirling array of emotions to deal with right now and needed some space from his dad before his gave into the temptation to deck him one. Why hadn't it been him to wake up and answer the goddamn phone? Sam had reached out to him at long last and he'd been too drunk to notice.

His bare feet flinched at contact with the cold cement floor and he headed quickly over to the impala. The sun was barely up and the chilly interior of the car made him shiver not that he gave a damn. He was too distraught to notice the absence of warmth right now.

Tears unashamedly fell as he rested his head dejectedly against the steering wheel. All he could understand was that he had been too wasted to take his brother's call last night and look at what had happened. Dad and Sam had gotten into another shouting match and he hadn't been there to stop it. Again.

Worst though was to find out that someone had dared to hurt his brother. His gawky stubborn assed baby brother that _he_ was supposed to keep safe. No one else, not Caleb, not some freaking stranger but _him_ alone. Stinging harder than any cut was the thought that his brother now believed that to be expected now, that the need for him didn't exist anymore when he got hurt. That he really didn't need a brother anymore.

Letting the last sob leave his body he wiped his face dry with the back of his hand and finally dialled Caleb. He was not going to let dad's ominous warnings of Sam continuing to run silently from them to happen.

When he got only his voicemail Dean flinched and tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible. "Hey Caleb its me you fuckwad idiot for brains. I know what happened with dad and Sam last night and I'm on my way to Cali. Please man don't you let your anger at my old man stop you from making Sam call me. I really need to speak to him and know that he's doing okay. Please dude call me or get my brother to. Please."

He knew by the end of the message he was clearly begging but he needed to hear Sam's gentle voice again and tell him that he still had a brother that cared. No matter what Sammy believed.

**o0o0o0o0o**

Since she had barged into Sam's room that morning Etta was in mother hen mode. Her lips were pursed as she noted the bloody stain on the dressing being peeled from his lower back. Swabbing the area with an alcohol wipe as best she could she tutted in sympathy, "You throw a few more hissy fits last night because this was clean when I last checked."

Sam ignored her remarks and her propensity of mothering as she stuck on a fresh pad before gently tapping on his shoulder, "Seems okay son as the stitches seem to be holding. When I get you to San Diego you are going to see my own personal physician to get this checked over whether you like it or not Samuel Huffman."

Sam ignored her pointedly just shrugging on a clean shirt as soon as a fresh dressing was in place over the wound.

Last night had been a mind-field of nightmares and remembered regrets and his body had borne the brunt of it. Now he was just to plumb tired to argue the odds. A day of sleeping as Etta drove on just seemed just what he needed. In a couple of days he'd been on his own again and from then on he was going to be Mister Joe Ordinary. No ones freaking concern ever again.

The sharp knock on the door caught them both by surprise. It was too early for check out and Sam knew that he hadn't ordered room service as he cocked a look at Etta. For her part Etta shrugged but jumped to her feet and raced to pull the door open. She took a step back as the tall man barged in, his blues eyes flashing a warning that she was too afraid to ignore.

"Sam," he called out sharply as he brushed past the older woman to draw to a sudden halt. Sitting at the foot of bed was the youngest Winchester who looked up at him in stunned surprise with his shirt unbuttoned revealing a clearly emaciated frame.

Within a hearts beat Caleb rushed over to the startled boy and knelt down and cradled the boy's trembling face in his hand, looked deeply into bruised eyes and felt such pain mirrored back that he wanted to cry for him. This was not the Sam Winchester he had last looked on. Something had broken so deep inside him it hurt just to look at him now.

"Sammy," he breathed out again then drew the too thin boy him into a tight hug to him. "I ought to smack you upside the head for scarring me like this. You know that. Right?"

Etta feeling pushed aside more than just physically watched the older man snatch the boy to him. Her frown knitted in worry at noticing how Sam's frame resisted the touch and she wondered just who this madman was that had barged into the room.

"Hey you best let go of that boy before I beat your brains out," warned Etta as she picked up the kettle in the small sink alcove and brandished it threateningly.

Caleb looked over his shoulder at the feisty woman and threw her grin of admiration. "Please Mrs Adams put down the kettle. My names Caleb and I've known Sam Winchester since he was a toddler. I'm an old friend. Really."

Etta snorted again in disbelief shaking the kettle menacing towards Caleb's head. "Well his name sure as hell it isn't Winchester but Huffman mister."

Caleb laughed at her fearlessness and could see why Sam would have made a connection with her before turning his attention back to the way too silent boy in his grip. Again looking at Sam's face his heart lurched, "Sammy come on speak to me kiddo."

Sam dared to blink letting the warmth of the Caleb's hands touching him sink in before he was finally able to respond nodding a brief look over at the hovering woman, "Its okay Etta. This here is Caleb an old friend of my father's."

Caleb heard the words spill from the young man's mouth before Sam pointedly withdrew himself from his touch eyes shadowed in mistrust as he slowly buttoned up his shirt. "You've wasted your time if you think that I going back with you. Nothing is stopping from going to college. Not now. Not my dad. Nothing."

Caleb shook his head as Sam closed himself off and shut him out in the process. Just what the hell had these last few months done to the boy to think that he had no one he could trust in anymore?

Deliberately ignoring the flinch that came from the younger man he drew him into a tight embrace and whispered in his ear. "I'm taking you to the professor kiddo. No one else. He's gone crazy wondering about your scrawny geeky ass. We all have."

**TBC**

**One maybe two more chapters to go and then Sam will have his day at Stanford. Feedback devoured!**


	16. Chapter 16

_As usual all disclaimers apply! As always big thanks the continued feedback and my apologies if I haven't been able to get back to you all personally. Rozzy_.

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 16 – Float away to the moon**

As he dragged on his boots onto decidedly frozen toes Dean eyed his dad who was busying packing away their stuff and thought it curious how it was only his little brother that could ever crack through the hard shell that he had surrounded himself with.

The only other time he had seen such visible breaks before in his dad's armour had been at Farnborough and he never thought that hollowed out look in his eyes would be back again. Yet there it was smouldering like a fire inside his father and it frightened the crap out of him.

Dean could understand just what damage that fire was doing to the man as he felt something sizzling away inside of him too. His stupidly naïve, forceful of mind little brother was tearing them all too pieces without even knowing it.

Hurriedly Dean pushed back his wondering thoughts and instead swallowed down some Advil with a large glass of water determined to put the hangover on the backburner. Shrugging on his leather jacket he picked up his holdall gave a small salutary nod over to his dad and set about getting to California and to his brother. This time it was the Impala that led the vanguard down the highway with his father tail-ending after him.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Caleb felt a tremor go through Sam as he whispered in his ear and pulled away afraid that he was swamping the kid. "Its okay Sam, I'm just here to make sure that you're okay."

Sam lifted his head and stared back at him clearly puzzled as he whispered out a question, "He didn't send you to force me back? I thought maybe …"

Caleb gave him a smile of understanding his blue eyes twinkling brightly with emotion, "He? Your crazy ass of a dad? No, not unless you want me to."

"No," whispered Sam before turning away from him, busying himself with finishing up buttoning his shirt. "Not in this life time."

Caleb nodded his understanding wanting desperately to hug the kid to him but sensing that's not something Sam would entertain right now, not with his perfectly patented Winchester game face on in plain view.

Instead he sucked in a breath and told him the truth, "So listen I know what happened back in New Mexico you moron. What the hell did you think you were doing discharging yourself so quickly and keeping us all in the dark like that?" His voice softened as he looked over the frighteningly pale boy, "You sure you're alright?"

Pulling physically away from Caleb's words Sam recoiled and he laughed hollowly, "Seems nothing gets past a bloodhound like you." More pointedly he added, "Its all fine now so there nothing to concern any one with. Right?"

Dark green eyes studied him furiously trying to assess the breakdown of information and Caleb winced an apology, "Sorry kiddo but your dad and brother know."

"You told them?" whispered Sam feeling suddenly over-exposed by his old friend admission. His dad would more than likely feeling some sort of satisfaction that he had been proved him right that he, Sam Winchester, was a major fuck up and couldn't even get across country without getting into serious shit.

Caleb felt the barriers go instantly up and tried to break through, "Hey common on dude you were seriously hurt and your dad had a right to know. I had to tell him."

"A right to know? Jesus he already thinks me a waste of space and now you've given him a whole arsenal of ammunition to fire at me. Bet he thought I brought this all on myself anyways."

Caleb tried to keep the acknowledging flinch from his features but Sam read the flicker of discomfort nonetheless and knew the truth once again withdrew. "Damn it Caleb."

"God listen boy don't do this right now. Lets just get you to California, get you sorted and then you can tear strips of me if you still feel the need then."

"Man I don't need you as some glorified nursemaid. I'm doing just fine by myself." huffed back Sam crossly.

Etta muttered in disagreement behind them and Sam threw her a look of warning. This was his business and he really didn't want it to be the topic of conversation right now. Everything just felt too raw to have it brought out in the open, especially with some one like Caleb whose disappointment he didn't think he could bear also.

"Okay, I can see that," responded Caleb dryly slowly taking on board a difference in the boy that was still hard to quantify. "Still you gotta know that Aaron has been sick with worry."

"So he's really back then? I thought he wasn't due to return for another month," asked Sam directly and for the first his eyes showed some spark behind them.

"A.J. came back from England the moment you took off, " admitted Caleb softly.

"Well that was stupid. Its not as if I'm some underage runaway needing you guys to hunt me down is it?" answered Sam bluntly and the dull look was back in his eyes as he shutdown again.

Caleb couldn't contain the grunt of surprise at the boy's words and paced the room trying to battle down his growing anger at the boy's petulance, "Stupid? The stupid thing was taking off like that and cutting everyone off in the process. You know the things we do and yet never thought to call any of us to let you know you were safe or needed help. Now that too me is what I'd call freaking stupid."

"I see you have the same opinion of me as my dad." returned Sam and missed the flinch on Caleb's face as he drew to a sharp halt in front of him. "It may seem 'stupid' to you but I never asked you or anyone else to come after me."

"Yeah and look where that's got you, a knife in the back and some time in ITU. Clever going there Sam, real fucking clever."

Caleb realised he had spoken without thinking as he saw Sam take a sharp intake of breath on the bed.

It was too much for Etta and she slammed down the kettle in hand and turned to face him.

"Don't you blame Sam for what happened," she demanded pushing a sharp finger into Caleb's chest and he took a backward step, "He got hurt protecting me. Don't you dare make out any of this was his fault."

Caleb took a step away and muttered under his breath, "Shit Sammy I didn't mean to say it like that, I just want to help you man."

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room as Sam refused any eye contact. The colour rising on the boy's cheeks was too much for Etta and she sat down besides him and brushed a hand onto his shoulder and felt the shiver run through him, "You okay hejo? You need your pain meds? You've not had any since last night."

When Sam finally looked at the woman he admitted tiredly, "Yeah, maybe."

"How bad is it? Do you need to see a doctor?" flustered Etta drawing a hand on his forehead to make sure that he hadn't a temperature. He felt warm but not dangerously so. Just over tired by the looks of things. Yesterday had been too much for him and she chastised herself for listening to him and spending far too long on the road.

Gently prising her hand away Sam shook his head, "No Etta. No doctor. Just give me some time okay."

Sinking on to the opposite bed Caleb was slowly taking onboard just what sort of shape the kid was really in and felt his stomach doing flip-flops at the sight. In the big macho world of the Winchesters and hunting you learned to suck it up rather than admit to such a weakness and that's what Sam had been doing since he had barged into the room.

The shiver he had sensed when he had touched him earlier had been more about pain than a reluctance to greet him. "Sam I'm sorry dude. You really okay?"

Sam mutely nodded and took the offered glass of water and pain meds from Etta but Caleb didn't miss the tremble in his hand and the slight spill of water down the front of his shirt.

'Beat me death with a rusty hammer and I couldn't feel worse', thought Caleb as he studied the pale boy even more closely. The pain etched into his thin face wasn't the only clue to his physical state. The way his hair curled damp at the neck and on brow spoke volumes. The kid was hurting and he hadn't helped by mouthing off like that.

Etta still hovered by his side, "You need to have something to eat sweetie with those painkillers. Lets get some breakfast into you. I can get room service…"

"No. I could do with the walk. The restaurant's not too far," answered Sam who looked over at Caleb all animosity lost when he saw the worry on his friend's face. "You up for that?"

Glad at the chance to repair the damage done by his little outburst he nodded, a wide grinning splitting his face. "I'm starving kid. Could eat a fuc…" he paused at seeing the raised eyebrow from the Hispanic woman and quickly amended his words, " I could eat a freaking horse."

Caleb leant down and gently pulled him to his feet and took a step back in surprise as he took in Sam's extra inches in height since he last saw him, "Jesus kid you been chomping on 'Miracle Gro' since last summer? You must have shot up another goddam foot."

He was met with genuine smile as Sam admitted softly, "It's not a particular happy subject with Dean as you can imagine."

"I bet," murmured Caleb reaching out to grasp both his shoulders in a tight squeeze of affection and he growled out his relief, "Its good to see you dude even though I have to say you look like fucking crap."

Noting the shine in his old friends eyes Sam felt guilty for his cold reaction before and grinned back shyly, "Thanks. I think."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

The sun was starting to dip in the sky and as John watched the Impala ahead of him he knew that his oldest was not interested in slowing down or of talking any break soon.

The muscles in his forearms ached from the long drive but it was something his body was used to after so many years of endless travel. The jobs they took frequently sent them on long journeys but never with the urgency he felt now as he chased after both his boys. The thump-thump in his chest every time he thought of his youngest boy and the danger he had been in made him feel sick to his stomach. God knows what it was doing to Dean.

For his part with his shades in place Dean could ignore the glare of the sunlight reflecting of the hood and concentrate on the road ahead. He grimaced when he saw the road sign announcing their imminent approach to Oklahoma up ahead. California was still too far away for his liking and he just prayed that at least Caleb had managed to play catch up by now.

The urge to call the older hunter kept niggling at him but he had to give the man time to find Sam. God knows what he'd find when he got hold of his little brother. Desperately he whispered out aloud, "Hurry up and call me Caleb. Fucking get your thumb out of your butt and ring me."

As he gripped the steering his mind kept falling back to the thought that his baby brother really had decided to cut them all out of his lives. What had happened to Sam in New Mexico should have been a wake up call for his brother giving him the chance to bring them back together again, instead he kept on pushing himself further away.

Sam hadn't reached across the divide for any of them and that fucking hurt. Whatever was going on his freaky head needed to be sorted out once and for all because none of this was right, none of it.

The headstrong idiot really deserved a smack upside the head when he got to him and he growled out loud, "Jesus kiddo you almost dying not cause enough for you to contact me till well after the event. What the hell were you thinking?"

Every time he allowed his thoughts to linger on his little brother his inner fear of rejection stabbed through him. The boy he was chasing after may not want to see him even when he did catch up with him and what then? He couldn't force his brother to do anything now and hell didn't he know that Sam was just as inflexible as his father when it came to making his mind up about something and sticking to it.

"Please Sam just give me an in here. Let me make it right for us."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

After the awkwardness of the motel room encounter Etta was grateful of the change of scene as she sat in the quiet and pleasantly decorated restaurant. As she cast an eye over Sam she knew he had dropped weight too fast and needed fattening up no matter how many layers of clothes he put on to disguise the weight loss.

Supping at her coffee she was relieved to see some of the earlier reserve lifting off Sam's shoulders and he clearly had a deep affection for the older man as they engaged in light conversation.

Caleb for his part couldn't keep the concern for his younger charge at bay. He looked washed out and frighteningly thin as if his frame had grown too fast and his body couldn't keep up. He had watched with disquiet at the way Sam held himself too stiffly as he walked to the restaurant, still fighting the effect of the wound in his back no doubt.

As he saw the light sheen of perspiration on Sam's face as he settled into a hard backed chair Caleb itched to have a look at the wound and see what he could do for the kid. After a while he finally asked, "So Sam you have that wound checked recently?"

Sam struggling to finish half as slice of toast shrugged and then nodded over to Etta. "Mrs Adams been looking after it just fine. It's okay man so stop fretting."

Etta threw a look at Caleb and smiled weakly. "It is healing. Slowly. It would have been better for him to stay in hospital but this boy wouldn't listen to reason."

"Nothing new there," muttered Caleb under his breath. "Still I wanna check it out before we go back on the road again. Make sure that you're up to travelling."

Sam stared at him firmly making clear his intent, "Its fine. Not gonna stop me and Etta from hitting the highway again." He threw the Hispanic woman a winning smile and a flash of dimples and all her reservations about carrying on crumbled away.

Caleb saw the effect on the woman and frowned. She wasn't part of his plans to get Sam to Aaron. She'd only slow him down and he had been intending on it only being him and Sam when they hit the road again.

"You know Mrs Adams I can take it from here. You must being dying to get back to San Diego and home."

Etta threw Sam a look of alarm not yet ready to give up her mothering role for the boy no matter how this newcomer forced his way in and she protested in return, "I promised Sam I'd take him to Palo Alto. I want to see him settled."

"Palo Alto will have to wait as his first stop will be Berkley ma'am. Aaron is all set up for his arrival."

Sam snorted his disbelief at the way Caleb seemed intent on taking over, muscling in just like his dad always did. "Since when did you decide to take over my life? You can't just tell Etta to go and force me off to the professor like that."

Seeing in the flush of anger on the kid's face Caleb put up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Hey Sam take it easy. I'm thought I could ride shotgun with you till you get to California. If you want the professor to meet you in Palo Alto instead we'll do that. Okay? "

Sam swallowed dryly knowing that the man only had his best interests at heart but it still felt like he was being controlled all over again. "Look dude I appreciate the offer but I've already made my plans with Mrs Adams and I'm sticking to them."

Caleb studied the determined expression on the boy's face and saw his father reflected back at him and knew that the battle had already been lost. Sam was clearly still running from them all and using Etta as a barrier to hold up against. It was going to be a slow journey of discovery he realised as this Sam Winchester sitting in front of him was different from the silent teenager of last year.

As if reading his thoughts Sam stood up suddenly, "Gotta go to the bathroom," and when Caleb stood as if to follow he snapped out hotly, "On my own. Don't need you to hold my hand to do that too do I?"

As Caleb sat down again feeling suitable chastised he watched Sam shuffle off down the restaurant and the silence grew uncomfortable at the table. Finally he let out a tired breath and drank down his lukewarm coffee. Dark eyes stared at him and he finally looked over to Etta and saw the glare of disapproval on her face.

A weak smile flashed as he admitted, "I know I shouldn't have pushed him like that. I just assumed he'd want my help and get him to the professor. Its just so hard to see him hurting like this and not be able to reach out to him."

"The boy has been through an awful lot young man. More than I think he'll ever let on. All that time in the hospital Sam just clammed up and I only found out about his brother last night. It was killing him but he wouldn't let me in or anyone else, so don't think bad about the way he's reacting now. Its like he reached some sort of crisis and pulled through it all in his own troubled way."

Caleb rubbed his eyes tiredly, the long drive through the night bringing him close to exhaustion but he could hear the wisdom behind her words. "Thanks ma'am, I can see why the kid respects you so much. Its still hard though to see him dealing with all of this and keeping me, all of us, at arms length."

Etta seeing the tiredness smudged in dark circles under his eyes sighed in sympathy, "Listen I feel a little guilty myself as I sort of cajoled the boy into ringing his brother last night and I know it didn't go well. He's shutdown tight ever since."

"May be that's because his dad picked up the phone and not his brother and they ended up having words," offered up Caleb. "John screwed up big time there. Yet again."

"So he didn't even get to speak to his brother then. Lord his father sounds like a hard man to like," murmured Etta watching the expression carefully on Caleb's face as an indicator to the truth. "What sort of man pushes his boy out of the door and leaves him too afraid to ring home?"

"The sort of man who has let life scar him Mrs Adams," offered up Caleb honestly. "John Winchester is a hard nosed son of a bitch but he does love his boys in his own unique fashion."

Nursing her coffee she knew the truth, "Just loves them differently, right? I have two boys of my own, all grown and as different as chalk and cheese but I still love them the same, equally, no matter what. It would be unnatural to do otherwise."

"Mrs Adams its hard to explain. What we would see as exceptional in Sam his father just saw as differences and it scared him. With Dean he had perfect control but with Sam, well ever since he's been able to speak he's always asked why and expected an answer. Drove the ex-marine in John mad at times."

Soaking in his confession about the sort of parent John Winchester was she asked directly, "Still tell me what sort of father makes one brother think he's worth less than the other? Tell me please and make me understand here? Like I said it just isn't natural. Lord I'd love to box that stupid man's ears if I ever meet up with him."

Caleb took her hand and squeezed it purposely and grinned knowingly, "If that day ever came about Mrs Adams there would be a pretty long queue in front of you, believe me!"

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

The phone rang and Aaron literally jumped in his armchair, instantly alert and any vestige of his unintentional afternoon nap was shrugged off as he snatched up the handle. "Hello?"

"Hey old man I hear you've been looking for me?" drawled out a familiar and welcome voice.

Aaron could hardly speak as his throat constricted and he stuttered out, "Sam you okay son?"

Sam eyed the two sets of eyes looking through the window at him and couldn't help but grin as they both darted to look else where at being caught out. "Got my own personal body guard and mother hen in tow so yeah I'm fine…"

"Caleb found you then?" and yet again the older man felt the spring of tears fall down his face. Sam sounded different since last they had spoken and he wondered just what sort of changes he would see in the young man when he got to California.

"I think he must be part demon hound," laughed Sam softly fighting his own personal battle of emotions as he heard his mentor's breath hitch in the background. "You okay Professor? I'm sorry I would have called earlier but I thought you'd still be in Cambridge."

Aaron snorted at his concern, "Cambridge got old pretty fast and I'm doing fine unlike you young man. Knife wounds are a serious thing Samuel so you best been taking care of yourself since doing a runner from the hospital like that."

Sam heard the censure in his voice and felt the blush of shame colour his cheeks that he waylaid his plans in England, "Really I'm okay and like I said I've got my own personal mother hen. You'd like her old man, Etta is one feisty old broad."

"So you readying to let Caleb bring you up to Berkley?" asked Aaron changing the subject unable to take on board the idea that a complete stranger had been the one to look after Sam when he'd gotten hurt.

Wincing at the invite Sam answered, "I appreciate the offer A.J. but I have my own plans. I need to get settled in Palo Alto before term begins. Get a job and some cash behind me. Books aren't cheap and I still need to eat."

Noting the stubborn tone in Sam's voice Aaron again tried to side-step his words. "I haven't had the chance to I say just how damned proud of you I am Sam. A full scholarship and you did it all on your own. I always had faith in you and knew you could do it."

Sam felt his heart thump in his chest at the warmth of his praise. "You were the only one that openly wanted this for me. Thanks old man for everything."

"Nonsense all I did was write one little open letter of support. It was your hard work and ability that opened those doors for you. Believe me Sam Stanford is damn lucky to get you. Personally I was routing for Berkley but I guess you didn't want to go down that route what with the strained relationship I have with your dad."

"Not half as strained as mine professor believe me," laughed Sam humourlessly, "Honestly I don't think it would have mattered what college I picked as it was never part of his plans for me. Stanford, Berkley or even Hawaii he would have hated them all."

Aaron sighed, "I heard from Pastor Jim that things were really bad between you two before you left. I was worried laddie, really worried for you especially when you just disappeared like that."

"When John Winchester tells you to stay gone you do exactly that. It was hard walking away from Dean like that but I couldn't stay."

"You have to talk to him Sam. Just like you he needs his brother back in his life."

There was a long silence and finally Sam responded, "It's not possible right now but may be in time…."

"See that's what I'm talking about. You're rushing things a bit Sam it seems to me. Not taking the time to heal properly. Please come up to Berkley and stay a while. Take the time to get well again. I promise I won't cook. You can have take-away every night. Meat feast pizza and burgers. You take your pick."

Sam laughed at the promise, "You still trying to burn your house down every night then with your tofu and ming-bean creations?"

"I have you know I have perfected the art of microwave dinners now. Goddam wonderful invention…"

There was a pause down the line and Sam sighed, "Listen I know you want what's best for me but Etta is still driving me to college. We're not that far away now and it makes sense to get there first."

"Sam why are you doing this, pushing yourself so hard? You really are not alone in all of this."

Sam shook his head desperate to make him understand, "I know you want help me but it just that I need to do this. End this journey on my own terms and not let anything or anyone stop me now. I'm so tired of failing Aaron. Let me win this round and let my dad know that I can survive despite his worst expectations. "

"This is all about that damn Winchester pride Samuel. You know that, right?" grunted out Aaron realising that he wasn't going to get him to change his mind and his voice softened in defeat. "Its okay laddie I respect your choice and the reason behind it. Just let me know when you get there. Besides I'm looking forward to meeting your latest conquest with this Mrs Adams. Rich widow and all, sounds quite a catch."

Laughing in relief at the suggestion Sam blurted out his thanks, "A.J. man thanks for trusting and believing in me. It means so much - far more than I can ever say. I'll see you soon."

As the phone went dead Aaron stood up and looked at the photo on display on the mantle. Two young boys, bright smiles looped in a brotherly embrace stared back at him.

As he fingered the silver framed picture of younger more carefree brothers he was left wondering yet again why John couldn't share the complete faith that he had always harboured for them both? Instead John could only see the darkness he hunted and that left him blind him to all the potential they harboured beyond his control.

Why couldn't he have encouraged Dean to follow his own path instead of imposing his own designs on the poor lad? The oldest boy never stood a chance it seemed in becoming his own man always having the mantle of responsibility saddled on his too young shoulders.

Aaron's gave out a bitter sigh realising that he had failed Dean just as much as he had helped Sam. Maybe John's past jibes about playing favourites did have a ring of truth about them.

It had just been so difficult to get past the older boy's self-imposed defences even from the earliest of age. He was not so open like Sam, not so naturally spontaneous or inquisitive to learn as his brother, his father's domineering will warping him too early into the man he was forced to become.

At least in his own way he had protected his brother against the worst that John flung their way. He had sheltered the boy long enough for Sam to grow strong and make his ultimate stand of defiance. What a shock to the system that had proven to John Winchester and he could almost feel sorry for the man if he didn't know it was all self inflicted.

The mad fool was close to breaking those boys apart permanently if he didn't try and rein himself in this battle with his youngest. Sam wasn't readying to back down at all by the sounds of things and John really need to know what he had unleashed in the boy. A solid streak of true independence had taken root that was growing bigger by the day and nothing John tried to do now was going to stop him.

Eyes narrowing Aaron knew he had take the bull by the horns. Literally. At least by use of the phone, as he'd be damned if he was going to sit back and let John ruin that brotherly bond any further.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

They had travelled in a small convoy since breakfast, stopping briefly for lunch and Sam had grown increasingly withdrawn. Physically he was no worse it seemed but he had shutdown again on her, listening to some inner voice that was slowly tearing him apart again.

His eyes remained riveted on the car and the driver ahead of them as he was recalling a hoard of memories that he wanted rid of. Caleb's presence added to the mix was proving to be more trouble for the boy thought Etta and tentatively she asked, "So tell me about Caleb. He's sure is a handsome devil isn't he?"

Sam threw a look of shock at her remarks. "Caleb? Well sure if you like the brooding macho look he's patented."

Etta laughed freely at his reaction. "Don't you worry he's not half as pretty as you Sam."

Sam groaned and blushed crimson, "Etta please!"

"Come on Sam tell me about Mr Tall, Dark and Brooding. He surely thinks a lot of you to come looking for you like he did."

"Yeah well he's been around since I was toddler. Like an extra older brother I suppose. He's the one that taught Dean all he knows about bar fights, hustling and girls. That's why they work well together. Two peas in the same pod."

Sam paused chewing on his bottom lip remembering his inner jealousy at feeling excluded whenever they got together and he let slip, "It used to bug the crap out of them both me wanting to tag along like some annoying shadow. It came to head when I was a short spotty twelve year kid with puppy fat and I wasn't deemed a good look in their quest to pull the girls. I soon learnt my lesson and stayed gone when they wanted rid of me."

Etta frowned. This wasn't the normal happy retelling of childhood memories she was expecting, "What did you learn Sam?"

"I learnt that being stuck in a locked cupboard for half a day is not a lot of fun. After that I gave them all the space they needed."

"Those bastards," barked out Etta in horror horrified by their actions and was then stunned by the loud hearty laugh that came out of Sam.

"Don't you worry I got my own back when Caleb had to get rid of his car because of the smell."

"Smell? What on earth did you do?"

Sam looking at the back of Caleb's head in the car ahead grinned wide at the memory, "Found a road-kill skunk and drenched the whole of the inside of his car with its unique scent."

"Didn't you get it all over yourself and give the game away?" gasped Etta more than surprised at his ingenuity.

"No ma'am, I taped myself into bin liners before doing the dirty. No incriminating evidence left for them to pounce on and nail me with."

Fearing to ask as she started to see Sam in a fresher light, "And Dean. What about him?"

With a small grin Sam locked eyes with her, "I sort of let a rumour fly around school about STDs and a certain older brother. Girls wouldn't go near him for months and he was totally shut out."

"You little bastard," laughed back Etta in return then had to ask, "What did he do when he found out?"

Sam shook his head his eyes bright with the memory, "The jerk put Nair in my shampoo. I thought I had some incurable disease…"

"No. Oh god that's terrible," coughed out Etta trying desperately not to laugh at his misfortune.

"Yeah it was but putting iron filings in his boxers on his next date was sweet justice. His bits were rubbed red raw and couldn't sit down for a week without wincing."

He chuckled again as he admitted, "It started up the whole STD rumour all on its own again at school. Dad made me do extra practice every night for a whole month for that one but it was worth it."

The Winnebago wobbled dangerously on the road as Etta gave into laughter and Sam shot out a steadying hand on the wheel till it straightened up.

"Were you always such a precocious little horror Sam?" gasped out Etta as she dabbed at the tears running down her cheeks.

"Me? Precocious? I don't know where you get that idea from Mrs Adams. I just learnt to survive at an early age in the testosterone charged world of my brother and the likes of Caleb," came back Sam with a cheeky grin.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

They had pulled into another motel later that evening and Sam had seemed bright enough at first but it soon became apparent that he was over tired as they sat in the small lounge bar readying for bed.

May be it was the addition of a small illicit beer mixing with the residue of painkillers but Sam was in a snarkey mood butting heads with a clearly bemused Caleb that forced Etta retire to bed early. She could see this turning ugly fast but knew Sam needed to get this off his chest and didn't want to hold him back.

As Sam watched Etta make her retreat he shot a knowing look at Caleb and saw the sour expression he sported as he absently rubbed his stomach. "Your ulcer back poster boy? You back to a diet of cabbage leaves and water again?"

"You always had such an acidic tongue even from a small boy as I remember," responded Caleb. "Thanks for your concern but no duodenal ulcer to worry about now. Thanks for asking though."

Sam didn't even flinch at his tone and gave a small snort of derision ignoring the pull of skin against his back in a tight hot throb. "You know what I remember about that night three years ago? Whilst you were spitting blood all over the place all that concerned my dad was that you were drawing those black dogs in the wrong direction. His carefully laid out plan was going out of the window because your body decided to break down for a while. Naughty Caleb. Really naughty."

"Yeah well I survived," answered Caleb remembering clearly how shocked young Sam had been when he had collapsed in front of him. He had ignored the pains in his stomach for months, just taking the usual antacids not thinking that someone as young and as fit as he was could be felled by something like that. "Come on Sam what is this all about? I know you're angry with your dad, but I'm not him."

For an answer Sam admitted, "I just don't understand Caleb. He treated you like crap for daring to get ill and yet you still stuck with him. Why?"

Caleb looked at Sam and saw the clear need for an answer and was reminded of the little six year old child who wanted to know why gravity 'worked' and why he couldn't just float away to the moon.

"Your dad is a great hunter Sam. He gets the job done and sometimes that all you need."

"Despite the cost."

"Yeah."

"Despite what it did to us, his family, his sons?"

Caleb reached how and grabbed a hand and squeezed hard. "You think I stuck around just because of your dad? Damn it Sam I watched you grow up. I thought you knew that you could always turn to me. Turn to me as a friend."

Sam drew back his hand embarrassed by the touch, "I thought that part of my life was over with the moment I dared walk out that door. When dad told me I had to make the choice between him and college I had to go and leave everything connected with him behind. Everything."

"God kid why would you think that?" Caleb trembled at the shock of the boy's pitiful confession and suddenly could understand why Aaron had punched out John's lights out almost two years ago.

"Don't you see I was just doing what my dad asked and stayed well away. You were all _his_ friends. Did you really expect me turn up on any of your doorstep and bring that sort of trouble with it. You know he would never have forgiven any of you if you went against him. Against his word."

Caleb took in a steadying breath and bent down to be face to face with Sam. "Thing is dude I don't give a fuck about your dad and his so called 'word'. What I do care about is you kiddo. I know what you've been through but it's not just yourself you're hurting here anymore. What about Dean?"

Sam lowered his head and the tears he swore he would no longer the luxury to fall stung hard, "Dean hates me."

"No man, why would you think that? He's been going crazy with worry. Yeah he may want to kick your stubborn butt but he's still your brother."

"Not anymore," confessed Sam daring to look at Caleb again, "It was the deal I made with dad and him. College or family. Not both."

Seeing the desolation in the teenager's eyes Caleb silently cursed John Winchester again for playing fucking mind-games with his boys like this. It was just wrong to see the damage he was doing, "You really believe that Sam? That Dean would give up his Pain-in-the-ass-all-knowing Big brother status just like that?"

Sam gave a bitter chuckle shaking his head, "You weren't there Caleb. When dad found out about Stanford he let rip and told me in no uncertain terms what a disappointment I was. So no big surprise there right?"

"But that wasn't Dean."

Sam looked him square in the eye, his face hardening as he spoke. "I thought my brother might have been even a little bit proud of me in getting a full ride but he wasn't. Just echoed what dad thought that unless it was something to do with the freaking job it has no value. Like I had no value."

Caleb swallowed down his own pain at hearing the loss in the boy's voice. "Just because you and Dean see things from different angles doesn't mean he doesn't respect you squirt."

"Respect me? I don't think so. It hurt so fucking much to see the look on his face when I left. Like he finally realised that all the times that dad had said how stupid and worthless I was in their world was the truth. He watched me go and didn't say a word Caleb. Not a word."

"Sam listen, when you left you took them by surprise and god knows just how much your family loves surprises! Don't think though that your brother didn't care. He tried to find you but shit happened. You need to talk to him, talk to him and sort this mess out."

"Mess?" answered Sam unable to hide the bitterness in his voice as the worrying buzz increased in his head and his throat felt suddenly too dry, "No mess to sort out old man as I see it because I know what I'm doing with my life and anyone who doesn't like it can go screw themselves from now on."

"And I take it that includes Dean and your dad?" queried Caleb feeling the determination riding off the boy in waves as he tried to make him see reason, "Listen Sam screw your dad but you need to speak to Dean and give him another chance at least."

"I tried that last night Caleb. I'm a fast learner and I'll not do that again in a hurry," snapped back Sam and suddenly tired of the conversation stood up to put an end to it. Only this time his legs couldn't support his weight and he wobbled violently and the sudden rush to his head made him to dizzy and all he wanted to do was vomit. Vomit all over the tiled floor in bucket loads, which of course he did, in spectacular Winchester fashion.

As the last heave finished Caleb felt the warmth radiating off him ignoring the murmured disgust of the bar staff. "Come on Sammy. Lets see what magic beans Etta managed to snag for you before you left the hospital. Okay?"

Weakly, way too compliantly, Sam nodded looking at Caleb as if he knew all the answers to the riddles of the universe. "Okay Cal. Just don't worry Dean or Aaron about this. Please. Just picked up a bug, that's all."

Caleb cursed under his breath feeling the heat radiating from Sam increasing. "Lets hope so Sammy." Thinking all the while that that this was definitely the time to call Dean despite what Sam might think.

**TBC**

_Phew. Bit of a marathon I know, mainly because I suppose I wantes to end this in the next chapter! Things do tend to runway with me at times….so….lets just see if that's possible. All reviews warmly welcomed._


	17. Chapter 17

_As usual all disclaimers apply! Thanks for every review posted – they really have been a great motivator for a slow coach like me! Feed back warmly received as usual. Rozzy_.

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 17 – Choices made**

The rain was pouring down from the heavens and Dean sat parked up on the hard shoulder watching with clear amusement on his face as his dad battled to change a flat tyre at the rear of his truck.

'There was no point in both of them getting a soaking', his dad had growled when he had tried to help and feeling still a little hungover he had quickly agreed.

Watching his dad curse as the sheet rain kept blinding his vision he knew the dour look on his father's face wasn't just about a blown tire. Sammy being hurt and not telling them had clearly rocked him hard not that he was going to sit down and tell him anytime soon.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he watched his dad struggle. They had been driving all day and now his still healing leg hurt like a bitch. He was more than ready to call it a night but first he had to try and get hold of Caleb again. All day he had been waiting for that call from him to tell him Sammy had been found and the silence was now weighing heavy.

As he picked up his phone it suddenly vibrated and sang out in his hand. On noting the ID of the caller a long sigh of relief escaped. 'About freaking time,' he muttered under his breath as he flipped the phone up.

"Hey Dean how's things going?" drawled Caleb down the line as he kicked of his shoes and sunk tiredly on to the bed. He had just picked up Dean's voicemail message after recharging his cell and felt more than a twinge of guilt that he had failed to touch base with him all day.

Dean masked his relief at hearing from him, "Cut the small talk you jerk just tell me how's Sammy doing. You got him right?"

"Yeah caught up with him earlier. He's with me now."

Dean snorted out his disbelief, "And you didn't think to let me know till now? Jesus torture a guy or what why don't you."

"My battery died on me. Sorry," confessed Caleb unable to keep the weariness from his voice. The last two days of chasing after Sam without the benefit of sleep was now taking its toll.

Impatiently Dean snapped back, "Yeah well let me speak with the idiot."

"Nope dude, he's asleep. As I should be," yawned Caleb in return as he watched the resting form of Sam on the opposite bed. The slight flush on his skin was in keeping with the wound infection he was now fighting but with the painkillers and antibiotics he was hoping he'd sleep through the night.

"Wake him up then so I can chew his stupid ass off," demanded Dean a smile of relief on his face at knowing that his brother was safely now with his old friend.

"No man, like I said he's asleep and I'm hoping it stays that way."

Instantly a chill ran up Dean's spine, "What's wrong Caleb? I thought you said my brother was okay."

At seeing Sam stir slightly with a mutter under his breath Caleb got up and walked over to the small table not wanting to wake him up with their conversation.

As he sat down in the less than comfy wooden chair he lowered his voice, "Define what you mean by okay? The kid's been through a hell of a lot Dean. Not that he'd tell you anything himself. I don't think a phone call is going to cut it with the boy. You best get your ass to Palo Alto quick time."

"Damn it," cursed out Dean hating been so far away. "He's so going to get a beating for being such a jackass…."

Caleb heard the hitch of frustration down the line and felt a twinge of guilt. "Look Sammy's gonna be okay. Its just he's running a slight fever. Small wound infection set in and he needs to rest. That's why I'm not gonna wake him now. I only just got the wilful brat to get some shuteye."

"You call a doctor out to him? Made sure that it's nothing more serious?" demanded Dean his mind splintering in to many directions of worry.

"Yeah Mrs Adams did the moment she heard me hustling Sammy back to our room. Some sort of sixth sense has your kid brother on her radar alert. She called out a doctor and he's been started on the antibiotics that Etta snagged from the hospital on his discharge. She's been looking after your brother real well."

"Not well enough if he's got a freaking wound infection if you ask me," snorted out Dean in disgust his hands trembling at the idea he was still too far away to be of help for his brother.

Caleb quickly interjected, "Listen whatever you do best hold your tongue about Mrs Adams when you do manage to speak to your brother. She stuck with him when she didn't need to and Sam thinks the world of her. I think they have this mutual admiration society thing going on."

"Eww please man your gonna make me go blind thinking about Sammy with some old chick. What the hell has he got himself into here?"

Chuckling softly Caleb put Dean straight, "No you freak, it's nothing like that trust me. She's old enough to be his grandmother so wash your mouth out with soap for thinking such disgusting thoughts."

"Caleb really how is he?" Dean asked pointedly chewing on the skin of his thumb anxiously.

There was a slight pause before Caleb answered honestly, "Not good Deano. I don't know what your dad said to him exactly or what really went down between you two before he left but the kid's not stopping until he gets to Palo Alto. Not for anyone now."

"So he's not going to change his mind, is that what your telling me?"

Caleb shook his head in sympathy with both brothers, "No your little brother isn't going to back down not after this. Besides what choice does he left to him Dean? Your dad isn't going to change his mind is he?"

"He has choices," whispered Dean. '_He has me_,' he wanted to scream down the phone but knew that wasn't going to be enough now to undo all the harm done with his leaving.

The older man shook his head, "He doesn't see that anymore. Its like he has to prove to himself that what your dad said about him is wrong. That he does have some value."

Dean bristled at the dig, "Hey I know our dad was hard on him but it was only to try and pull him back into line. You know that? To keep him safe and with his family."

"Bang up job your old man did there Dean didn't he?" snorted Caleb in disgust. "Thanks to him that boy doesn't think he has a right to a family anymore."

"Damn it, why did I let him go that night? confessed Dean sadly, "I should have tied him to the fricking chair and beat some sense into that mule head of his. If I had made him stay then maybe he'd have seen sense and let dad mellow out enough to reach a compromise. Then we wouldn't have lost him like this."

Taking a long tired breath Caleb recalled the distressing talk with Sam earlier and confessed, "You lost your brother the moment you said nothing. Near killed him inside, not that he'd ever admit it to you. Besides your dad doesn't do compromise so this is all that's left for Sammy now."

"So Stanford gets to keep him and we're left with nothing?" Dean felt bile burning his throat at the idea of his brother intending on being permanently gone.

Caleb couldn't keep the acid from his tongue as he answered, "Choices made Dean, remember that. You dad chose to say what he did to your brother. You chose to say nothing to support him. Now its Sam's choice to keep on running as fast as he can to the only thing he feels he has left."

"When did this get so fucked up man? I don't understand when or how the little geek got so damned silent about things."

"You tell me? I wasn't the one there with him for the last few years was I? I thought you knew how his mind ticked and could see how damned miserable he was at times. Poor kid honestly thought you'd be proud of him about getting a full ride."

"Jesus Caleb I am proud of the runt but he snuck this whole college thing in without even talking to me about it. What was I supposed to do? What should I have said when dad waived that damned acceptance letter from Stanford in my face?"

"If you need me to tell you that then your just as screwed up as your dad." Taking a steadying breath Caleb shifted uncomfortably on the chair, "Look I'm losing the battle here and I need some shuteye. I'll call you tomorrow and let you know how the kid is doing."

"Yeah okay, tell him I called, tell him I'm coming…." came back Dean weakly. Caleb's words had been stinging reopening old wounds and the memories that went with them.

As he clicked off the phone he realised his dad had finished changing the flat and was standing by the Impala staring at him keenly. He wound down the window, "Caleb's got him dad. They've holed up for the night like we should be doing."

John shook his head and a spray of water went off in all directions. "We can do a few more hours." He paused and locked eyes with his oldest. "Did Caleb say how he was?"

Dean swallowed at seeing the unspoken fear in his father's eyes, "We should do this later dad. You're gonna catch pneumonia and I don't know about you but my stomach is in serious need of a burger and a beer."

John leant forward and gripped the edge of the open window. "How is he Dean?"

Dean grimaced slightly, "Not brilliant. Fool kid got himself an infection but a doctor has looked at it and with Caleb there to force the meds down his throat he'll be soon on the mend. Anyways I don't think Sam will be going anywhere for the next few days and that gives _me_ time to catch up with him."

John sucked in a desperate breath glad of the rainwater running down his forehead to bleed into his eyes masking his own need for tears. He knew what Dean meant, that when he did meet up with Sam it was going to be on his own.

His voice gruff to disguise his hurt he stood up and shouted over his shoulder as he walked back to his truck, "There's a motel ten miles down the road. We can stop there."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Etta knocked on the door again her impatience and unease growing when no one answered. She knocked harder and finally the door swung open to reveal a bleary eyed Caleb, dressed only in boxers, clearly still half asleep. She brushed past him and stopped short. Sam's bed was empty and she looked questioningly over at Caleb. "Where is he?"

Caleb blinked owlishly before shaking his head appalled at not noticing Sam's empty bed when had crawled out of his own to answer the loud knocking on the motel door.

"Bathroom?" he offered up and stormed over to the shut door to swing it open without even bothering to knock. "This cannot be bloody happening," he cursed out loud when that too was empty.

As he raced back out of the bathroom Etta reached out and gripped his arm fiercely, "Where the hell is Sam?"

"I don't know," confessed Caleb as he pulled out of her reach to get hurriedly dressed. As he tugged on his jeans he barked out at the clearly frightened woman, "Look to see if the idiot left a note or something and check and see if his bag is still here?"

Visibly shaking Etta quickly searched the room finding no note but was clearly relieved to see Sam's bag still dumped in the corner where she had left it last night. "His stuff is still here. Where do you think Sam might go? And why?"

"The jackass is a law unto himself! You head over to the restaurant and I'll check with reception and then the grounds," responded Caleb as he slipped his shoes on and pulled a t-shirt over his head. Picking up his phone he raced out of the door with Etta close behind him.

Getting a blank at the reception desk Caleb spent the next half hour racing around the motel grounds in a desperate search for Sam. When he still came up empty handed he fingered the phone in his jean pocket wondering whether it was good time to ring Dean and let him know that he had 'lost' his little brother.

The coward in him kept the phone firmly in his pocket and instead he jogged back to the restaurant hoping that Etta had found him there. When she met him at the restaurant's entrance without Sam in tow his mouth went dry, "Shit Sammy where the hell are you?"

Etta clamped onto his forearm her eyes wet with tears. "He isn't well Caleb. I promised that I'd look after him and now…"

Patting her hand in comfort Caleb tried to calm her, "Sshh Mrs Adams. You're not the one that lost the kid. I'm the idiot who slept on whilst he slipped out. Lets go check out the rooms again. He might have come back."

Praying all the while as he guided Etta back to their rooms he knew that Dean was going to kill him if anything happened to his kid brother on his watch. Either that or John Winchester would.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Breakfast had been a glorious messy affair of greasy hash browns, sloppy eggs and crispy bacon and with the gallon of coffee he had drank to wash it all down Dean was more than ready to get back on the road. Even the nagging throb in his leg had eased and the thought of another day of driving didn't seem that bad now.

Casting an eye on his dad who was scouring the morning papers in a sprawl at the other end of the table he knew he was still planning out the job in Oakland. The hunt was his way of deflecting his thoughts away from Sammy but Dean wasn't fooled. His reasons for going to California had nothing to do with the job in Oakland. Nothing at all with a hunt and all too do with his little brother.

Catching the waitress attention he threw her a killer smile and asked for the check. When she eyed him with a small smirk whilst slipping down the check face down on the table he frowned but turned his attention back to his dad, "Hey old man you about ready to leave. I think the waitress is all set to jump in my pants"

John grunted and looked over at him. Putting down his paper a grin split his face and he chuckled. "You need to go wash up son. When you massacred breakfast it left its mark."

"Dammit," Dean blushed furiously wiping a paper napkin hurriedly over his mouth grimacing as it came back smeared yellow and red.

John laughed again. "Looks like you missed your mouth a few times too son," and he nodded at the dribble of yolk blending in with dollops of ketchup down the front of his shirt.

Standing up hastily Dean muttered a few obscenities under his breath and stomped off to the restroom.

Still chuckling John turned over the check and threw some bills down to cover it. As he folded up his papers readying to leave he felt the phone vibrate in his shirt pocket and answered automatically. "John Winchester here."

"We need to talk," barked out a familiar gruff voice in return with none of the usual pleasantries of a greeting.

"Jennings? Shit what the hell do you think I need to talk to you about."

"Sam."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Caleb saw the ringer's Id on his phone and pointedly chose to ignore it. The last thing he wanted to do right now was speak with Dean. He had enough on his plate with a distraught Etta sobbing pitifully on the bed that Sam had deserted at some point whilst dealing with his own guilt in allowing it to happen. Dean Winchester screaming verbal threats down the line at him for losing his kid brother would just have to wait a little bit longer.

His mind was racing, trying to figure where Sam's head was at last night after their talk. The fever and pain seemed well controlled when last he checked but he had been so desperate for sleep he doubted he would have heard a tornado rip through the room last night never mind Sam up and leaving.

"We should call the police," blurted out Etta suddenly. "They can start a search for him."

Smiling softly at her naivety Caleb fingered his phone absently wondering if should after all to make that phone call to Dean before deciding once more against that option. "No ma'am, lets just do another search of the complex then we'll see what our options are then"

"That boy has such bad nightmares," confessed Etta. "In the hospital he'd wake up and not know where he was at times. It truly scared me at times,"

Caleb nodded fully aware of Sam propensity for night terrors having seen his fair share over the years and confessed up guiltily "I just didn't hear anything…"

Etta's mind stumbling over the reasons for her missing charge asked, "Oh lord do you think he might have had one if his nightmares last night and woke up confused. He had a fever remember?"

"When I last checked before turning in it was coming down." Responded Caleb frowning in thought, "He wouldn't have just wandered off. Sam knows better than that."

"Yet he's not here. What would have made him leave? He was really tired, the room is nice, the bed comfortable just why would he need to leave?" demanded Etta.

Caleb paused as a thought struck him and he winced at his stupidity. "Christ it couldn't be? Come on Etta I have a notion I know where the fool kid might be…."

Etta chased after him, blowing her nose hurriedly as she tried to play catch up after his long stride. It was only a short walk and confused she drew to a halt behind his back as he flung open the door to the Winnebago and wall of sound hit their ears.

"Jesus freaking H-Christ I'm gonna smack him so hard," he cursed above the pounding rock music. Then all thoughts of strangling the boy vanished on seeing the slumbering form of an innocent and frighteningly young looking Sam in one of the seats. Relief flooded through him and he laughed at the sight, dragging air back into his lungs as the tightness in his chest lifted.

Etta slipped past him racing to Sam's side and sank down beside him to touch his brow. It was cooler to the touch than last night and she let out a deep breath of relief. Leaning over his sleeping form she switched off the radio and the silence was immediate.

Green eyes fluttered open at the loss of sound and as they slowly focused Sam scrunched up his nose in confusion at seeing Etta tear stained face pressed so near to his. "Hey you okay?"

Etta slumped into the other seat in disbelief, "Me? Okay? You frightened me to death taking off like that. What on earth were you thinking of spending the night in here?"

Sam winced at hearing the fire behind her words and slowly straightened up. Rubbing a hand over his face and to push the hair away from his eyes he confessed, "Caleb snores."

A smack to the back of the head brought a whimper of surprise from Sam and he guessed that Caleb was behind him. Gingerly he turned his head to see the older man staring daggers down at him. "Sorry but you do man. It was like being trapped in a room with a freaking jumbo jet taking off. Ten times worse even than dad."

His face pinking Caleb muttered, "I've had a cold and I'm just a little congested that's all," before indignantly adding, "And I do not snore worse than your old man. No one this side of hell could."

Etta shook her head clearly puzzled, "But I don't understand if you couldn't stand his snoring Sam how on earth could you sleep in here with that dreadful noise playing out?"

"What? The radio." Sam laughed self consciously at being caught out. "It sorta helps me sleep Etta. Since a baby I've travelled with the blast of music in my ears. I guess I just missed it last night, and…"

Caleb nodded his understanding. This was a part of Sam's life that he knew he couldn't just switch off. A little bit of home. "There you have it Etta. Never let it be said that our Sammy Winchester isn't freaky weird at the best of time."

Clapping a hand on his shoulder he was glad at the lack of heat coming from him. Always a fast healer Sam was bouncing back quicker than most. Still he wasn't going to risk another relapse and the promise he made to Dean to keep him safe had to be met now that the panic of losing him was over. "Come on dude it's time to take your meds and let me check that wound again. Then its back to bed."

Groaning petulantly Sam was about to protest when he felt another tap to the back of his head, this time from Etta. "Listen to the man and don't give him any grief.

Sam looked at her sideways a small smile on his lips, but the determination in his eyes screamed trouble for them all. Whatever their plans might have been to keep him nicely warm and tucked up in bed were not on his agenda for the day. Now that he knew Aaron was on his way to Palo Alto the urge to see his old mentor and friend was too much of a draw to ignore.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

John Winchester tried to keep the temper out of his voice as he walked back to his truck but was failing fast, "Last time we met up I told you to butt out of my sons lives. Guess you don't hear so well old man as believe me nothings changed my mind since then."

"I think a lots changed and if your too bitter and twisted to see that then may be I'd should do my talking directly to your boys then," barked back Aaron already regretting making the call to the surly Winchester.

There was a long pause as John absorbed the threat and he took in a steadying breath. "Speak fast old man and tell me why this call, and why now?"

"I think that Sam needs us both to be level headed right now, put our differences aside and do what's best for him and sort out this situation for both your boys."

As John hauled himself into the cab of the truck he slammed the door loudly behind him, "I told you once before and I'm telling you again to stop poking your nose in to my business. If it weren't for you none of this crap would have happened."

"I only wanted what was best for the boy," confessed Aaron. "I didn't know you'd push him out of your lives for daring to have a dream of his own."

John couldn't keep the hatred from his voice as he spat out. "If you wanted what was best for my boy you wouldn't have messed with his head with ideas about college, turning him into a slacker and daydreamer not fit for hunting. "

"You know that boy has never slacked off from anything in his life. Even though he hates hunting he's always given you one hundred percent. Its wrong to say he hasn't."

"Yeah well he's giving me one hundred percent of nothing now thanks to you and look where his new 'path' has gotten him." John couldn't hide his bitterness as he added, "My boy near enough got himself killed because of the nonsense you filled his head when he took off from his family."

Aaron wanted to shout out the odds but took a steadying breath instead. He had to stay calm for Sam and Dean's sake. "Johnny if you want to put the blame on my doorstep and if that makes you feel any better then do. I'm not going to fight with you any more as this isn't about us. Its all about your boys."

There was a long silence and Aaron finally broke it. "John you know Samuel is going to go to Stanford and stay out of your life for good. Is that what you really want? Can't you swallow your pride just this once and meet your son half way. Talk to him…"

"My son doesn't want to talk to me you know that right? When he rang his brother he made that pretty damn clear. The truth is he hasn't wanted to talk to me for years. Sam hasn't turned to me for anything since…." John swallowed hard unable to continue admitting his failure with his son to his old friend.

Aaron knew the one word he had kept back had been 'Farnborough' and the damage it had caused by fracturing his relationship with his youngest. He seriously doubted that John had the emotional capability to fix any of that with his boy but he had to at least suggest it.

"You can still try. Samuel still needs you in his life." Aaron prayed down the line that the man was truly listening.

John laughed emptily. "Need me? I'm the last person that boy has ever needed by the sounds of things. Everybody else, complete strangers, anyone else but me."

"You're so wrong Johnny. If ever a boy needed his father it's that lad of yours. He's been crying out to get your attention ever since I've known him. Just seems to me that somewhere along the way you forgot how to be that sort of father he needed."

John sucked in a long breath and admitted, "Its too late to fix things now. The boy hates me."

"Oh god why can't you see that the kid loves you despite everything. How can you just let him just go like that and not want to fight to keep him in your life."

"Yeah well as I see it I lost his respect and love a long time ago. Sam's made it clear he doesn't want me in his life anymore and that's what I intend to do. From now on I'm staying well out of it."

Aaron stuttered out his disbelief, "So rather than fighting for all of that back with your son it easier for you to let him go?"

John swallowed hard his face twisting in bitter honesty, "Yes."

There was so much he wanted to confess to his old friend but stark cold fear held the fire in his belly at bay. He had always known at some point he was going to lose his youngest and this way it he reasoned it would be less painful to bear.

Aaron unable to see the distress on his old friends face could not disguise his repugnance at his apparent coldness, "You're a cold hearted bastard. What about Dean? You intend for him to lose his brother because of your stupid pride?

Masking his real feelings John answered steadily, "Dean knows how I feel but he if wants to see his brother I'm not gonna stop him."

Aaron struggled to keep his anger in check, "Yeah somehow I find that hard to believe. You'll have him ride shotgun with you all over the country, anywhere but California, and they'll never meet up,"

"Like I said Dean can visit the boy whenever he likes. I'll not stop him."

Aaron reached the end of his patience wanting to reach down the phone line and throttle the man, "You know what forget it. Just take it as a given that I'm stepping back into that boy's life fulltime from now on."

"Lets be honest here that's what you've always wanted anyway," hissed back John.

"God you are such a sad prick John Winchester. You know you may well be right in staying out of Sam's life from now on; you'd only screw the kid even more given half the chance. You may not see any worth in Sam but I sure as hell do."

John wanted to scream down the line at the overwhelming pride he held inside for his youngest. That letting Sam go like this was the hardest thing he had ever done but he knew he couldn't make the boy happy anymore.

Over the years he had become too damaged to do anything else but hunt and whatever it was that made Sam different from him was a dangerous element he couldn't control. And in hunting control was everything. Taking Dean with him into this dangerous world was bad enough but at least he could trust him by his side to remain safe.

Sam leaving had opened his eyes to the fact that he couldn't control the boy anymore and that meant he couldn't keep him safe. Not in his world. Stanford may well be the safest place for him to stay for now he reasoned no matter how much it hurt to admit.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

It had taken another day of driving but he was now at his journey's end. Sam watched wide-eyed as they went down Palm drive and the campus came into view. A large sprawling array of Mexican styled buildings and open spaces made up Stanford and a smile played on his lips that he had finally made it. The 'Farm' was going to be his world for the next four years and he felt a thrum of excitement run through him in just drinking in the cascade of images all around him.

The last few months in this long journey seemed worth every step he had taken to get to this point in his life. This was going to be his future and with the knowledge that his brother was on his way to meet up with him life felt really sweet at the moment.

"He said to meet him in the Quad," nodded Caleb at Sam as they left their vehicles. "Only a short walk away kiddo. You up for that."

Etta slipped an arm through Sam's and smiled up at him. "I think he's readying to run there."

Sam laughed patting her hand warmly, "No stopping me now woman. You just watch and see."

As they walked slowly but steadily to the older part of the university Caleb couldn't help but be happy for the boy. Despite everything Sam was finally getting his chance to shine and he just prayed that when Dean caught up with him he could see that this is what his brother really needed. The academic sponge that walked arm in arm with Etta had finally found a place to call home.

Aaron Jennings with his long white hair held tight in a ponytail, with his tall broad frame ramrod straight and with a fierce looking scar cutting across half his face was an imposing sight. Not pretty to the eye but compelling nonetheless, but the smile that broke across his rugged features was a joy to behold.

In a couple of strides he was at Sam's side and his long arms swept him into a tight embrace and he was not ashamed to let the tears fall. "Laddie, its so goddam good to see you."

Etta threw a questioning look over at Caleb concerned that he was being too physical but Caleb gave a miniscule shake of his head and she kept her tongue.

Sam grunted something into his collar before slowly disentangling from his embrace a shy smile ghosting his lips as they're eyes locked, "Good to see you too professor."

Hooded grey eyes swept over Sam from head to toe and Aaron shook his head in concern. The boy was too thin and pale. Clearly he was not over his injury and Caleb's warning about Sam pushing his young body to hard to get here was frighteningly true as he could still feel an element of unnatural heat radiating from his thin frame.

Grateful that he had managed to convince a fellow colleague and old friend of his to let him use his house before the new term started he was just thankful that he would be there to get Sam fighting fit again.

Ignoring Sam's apparent shyness he embraced him again and marvelled that the boy was near enough his height now and his voice trembled as he gripped him tighter, "You did it Samuel. You really did it. Welcome to your new life."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

It was the hoarse voice that first drew Dean's attention as his dad growled out his request for a black coffee and nothing else. That and the series of sneezes that shook the booth in the space of a few seconds, all clear indicators that John Winchester was not one hundred percent fit.

His dunk in the rain the night before had left its mark on the oldest Winchester as he sported a cold, sore throat and a fever to match. Misery truly was named John Winchester as he supped a black coffee and tried to keep his heavy eyes open.

Dean was purposely ignoring his dad's appearance as he was itching to be on his way. His irritating little brother had somehow sweet-talked Caleb and that woman to carry on with their drive to Palo Alto and wasn't taking the time to rest up.

Just how fast that boy was running to California and out of his life was really scaring him now. No mere phone call was going to heal the damage done and he knew he had to see him face-to-face to get his stubborn ass sorted out once and for all.

It didn't matter what part of the world his brother decided to run off too there were things out there that could still hurt him and it was his job to make sure he kept himself safe.

Jennings and Caleb may be around for the time being but soon enough Sammy was going to be all on his own. Alone in the world were dark things really did exist and seemed to have no trouble in targeting his naïve little brother. Who was going to be around to protect him from them if not him?

**TBC**

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

_**One final chapter to go! All feed back warmly received. **_


	18. Chapter 18

_Usual disclaimers apply. Well the final chapter is done and dusted and hands up to confess it turned into a bit of a monster! Thanks to all that have stuck with this story as it grew from a (supposedly) planned 8 chapters to the behemoth it became! Anyway as always feed back most welcome. Rozzy._

**Escaping Gravity**

**Chapter 18: Twists and turns**

It had taken Dean a few days longer than expected to get to Stanford as playing nursemaid to his sick dad with man-flu had proved to be a very trying experience. After that he had decided that his dad would need shooting next time he went down with the anything other than a supernatural illness, to put them all out of their misery.

When his dad was fit enough to be on his way Oakland it was a welcome relief to be on his own again able to focus his thoughts back on his little brother. Driving through Palo Alto he was more than a little scared of what words would be said when they met up.

As he turned into the heavily tree lined street of comfortable middleclass houses Dean stilled the engine and took in the tranquil scene. Suburbia stared him back full in the face with sparkling homes and neat front lawns and he gave an involuntary shudder. Was this really what his little brother craved he asked himself.

Casting another glance at the address on the piece of paper in his hand he hesitated knowing that he was only a few doors away from reconnecting with his little brother. After all these weeks apart he felt a flutter of nerves in his tummy and marshalling his courage he drew in a deep intake of air before he got out of the car.

The third house along looked much like the others but as he drew up to the front door a medley of voices drifting over from the backyard caught his attention. Walking up to the high wooden fence to the side of the house he looked over the top expectantly then his mouth ran dry uncertainty gripping him again.

A small gathering of people, were standing or sitting around an open barbecue in the far corner of the yard. Caleb was instantly recognisable with a beer in on hand engaged in what appeared to be a heated conversation with Jennings.

Dean felt a rumble growl in his throat at the sight of the older man. A hollow feeling hit his stomach as he eyed his brother's confidante and all he could think was that he was the reason why his brother had run off to college and why his family were so screwed up now.

Trying to put his game face back on he took in a series of steadying breath, fighting down the red haze of anger as he let his eyes snake back and forth around the small back yard on the look out for his brother.

Then his gaze locked onto another familiar face and he rocked back on the heels of his feet in surprise. Pastor Jim bereft of dog collar was with an older woman, greying hair swept up into a neat pleat at a round wooden table. Dean grinned at the sight of a welcome face but was still anxious to see his brother and swept the yard again in search of him but Sam was nowhere to be seen.

Sucking in a breath to steady his nerves he was about to push the gate open when a tall willowy figure came out of the shadows, long gait quickly eating up the distance to the table where Pastor Jim sat and Dean's heart thumped loud in his chest.

A ripple of pure joy ran through him at seeing his brother again after such a long separation and hungry eyes devoured in the sight. In loose fitting jeans and a pale blue shirt Sam stood in a soft lean against the back of the woman's chair and her hand came up to pat his own.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise as he could swear that the kid grown another inch or two. How the hell Sammy had managed that considering all the drama he put his body through was a wonder in itself.

A deep fruity laugh snatched his attention back to the woman and his eyes narrowed. "Etta,' he hissed under his breath in instant recognition of the Adam's woman whose hand rested so easily over his brother's so territorially.

His top lip curled knowing that she was the reason behind Sammy getting hurt. He didn't know what felt worse the anger that he held inside that she was the cause of his brother getting stabbed or the feelings of jealousy that afterwards it had been her, and her alone, that his brother had allowed to stick by his side.

Desperate to see his brother's face Dean willed him to turn around and was rewarded as his brother swung about to listen to something the Pastor was saying. The sunlight dappled his tanned face running colours of gold and auburn through his dark hair and Dean murmured his brother's name in a glad whisper.

As he studied him he couldn't mask his surprise as seeing how well he appeared. Hardly like being at death's door as Caleb had implied with a soft honeyed tan glowing on his skin. Sure he was thinner than before but with the added growth spurt he could appreciate why.

Ignoring the desire to do a snatch and run of his baby brother he watched instead as Sam responded warmly back at Pastor Jim, sporting that big goofy smile of his that always seemed to make things better in their crazy whacked out world.

Studying him even closer he noted with a shake of his head just how long Sam had allowed his hair to grow so that he was struggling to see his eyes under the veil of a dark waves. A slight gust of wind lifted the hair to one side and he could see how keen and bright they were, sparkling with life and happiness.

Dean frowned worrying at his bottom lip feeling slightly put out by the healthy glow his brother was projecting. His brother stood there screaming out to the visible eye his bright youthful status. Self-doubt took hold and Dean leant in closer to the gate straining to listen in to their conversation and again his tummy did flip-flops at hearing his brother's soft voice lilt over to him.

"Yes sir it is going to be hard to say goodbye." Sam's hand reached out again to squeeze Etta's own and Dean glowered as a frisson of jealousy washed over him at the affection he was giving the woman, "I'm gonna miss her company a lot."

Dean stilled, his lungs struggling to take in air at his brother's confession and more uncertainty screamed loud inside his head._ 'Miss her a lot? What about me? Did you ever really miss me a fucking lot?' _

Etta beamed up at Sam her words driving another stake into Dean's heart, "I'll miss you more but at least you're only a hop away from the airport or a small drive away and Thanksgiving isn't so far away. You're family now don't you forget that."

_Is this what you want Sammy, for these people to be your family instead of me and dad? _worried Dean at seeing how his brother seemed to soak up her words.

Jim leant forward and offered up dramatically, "I've had the Winchesters over for Thanksgiving before Mrs Adams and it's never been a pretty sight to behold. I don't know who was worse Samuel or his brother. Both little scoundrels could strip a table bare in seconds."

"Hey no fair Pastor we were only kids." Sam laughed loudly at the way Jim rolled his eyes. "At least I have manners and know what to do with a knife and fork. Dean is more than likely to use his cutlery as target practice. Me namely being his target of choice if you recall.…"

Jim chuckled at the memory, "My yes, that brother of yours does have a unique way of marching to his own tune. I guess he can be a little forceful at times."

"You mean a jerk," Sam snorted with an easy laugh catching Aaron's attention. The tall professor walked over to Sam and put a familiar strong arm across his shoulder.

Dean bridling still at his brother's throw away remark about him he couldn't help but be shocked at the way Sam allowed himself to be held in such a fatherly embrace without trying to pull free. With the contact his deepening resentment grew exponentially.

Sam and his dad hadn't touched like that in years and it made Dean feel physically sick to his stomach at the way Jennings was usurping the role of their father so easily.

Unaware of the death stare coming his way Aaron cheerfully looked at Sam, "They still trying to beat down your defences? Don't worry I've got your corner from their endless nagging son."

Dean's fingers tore into the wooden fencing driving splinters under the skin as he wanted physically to scream out. '_His brother was not that bastard's son_.'

Unable to watch the display any longer he spun around and as he took a step away he heard his brother laugh again like he hadn't care in the world and it hit worse than any physical blow. Acid rose up his throat and the thought that he been brought here on false pretences wouldn't go away.

Dean swung back his eyes boring daggers into the back of Caleb feeling a level of betrayal that wounded desperately. Just how easy had it been for his old friend to manipulate him into coming to Palo Alto like this? Sammy didn't look close half to death as Caleb had hinted at so perhaps he had been strung a whole line of lies to get him to come out and face his little brother.

His breathing ragged he struggled to keep his fury in check as his world literally up-ended itself. Everything felt wrong, utterly spoilt, as all he could absorb was the truth that Sammy really had excised any need for him out his life and the rejection cut too deep to deal with it here and now.

Taking one last long look at Sam he knew now that he hadn't stood a chance in getting him back. His little brother stood confidently in that exclusive group of people that all wanted him in their lives and he had nothing to better it. All he had was himself and that was clearly not enough any more for the kid.

With a unsteady stride he took a few steps away from the house desperate to get away before being spotted as he didn't trust the words that would come out of his mouth now or stop his fists from flying. Best just to walk away, just like Sam had done so easily all those long weeks ago in Michigan and be done with it all once and for all he told himself bitterly.

As he reached the Impala the emotional walls went up faster and more impenetrable than ever before. Faster than the wall coming down on him in Detroit. He wasn't needed here and the one person who really did need him, who had always needed him was his dad. Somewhere during the ride to California he had managed to forget that and he had let him go off to a job knowing full well that he wasn't capable of doing it single-handed.

Guilt tore at him and he pulled out his phone swallowing back his hurt but couldn't keep the wobble out of his voice as he asked, "Hey old man you reach Oakland yet?"

John's deep voice boomed back, still hinting at a sore throat in its husky tones, "I'm about a half day out. I had to make a few stops…"

"Yeah well about that think you can hold up for me to catch up. I'll be with you by tonight."

"Dean?" queried John at the strange tone in his son's voice dreading to hear the answer, "You okay son?"

"Never better dad, never freaking better," lied Dean through his teeth as he swung the Impala away from normal and back to his father. Back to the only life he knew or could be accepted in.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Pastor Jim eyed once again the withdrawn youngest Winchester. For the last hour he had sat in the chair eyes half closed in the late afternoon sun seemingly drinking in the rays but the slight frown on his face gave the game away. The day had been too long and now he was struggling to keep his exhaustion at bay.

As he noted his still too young features Jim could hazard a guess that Sam had tolerated all their attention today more for their sakes than his own need. In truth he had a feeling that Sam would rather have spent the day just sitting alone with his own thoughts while waiting for his brother to show up.

Jennings, Etta, himself and even Caleb no matter how hard they tried were a poor substitute to what the boy really needed he realised with a small sad smile. Taking in a long steadying breath Jim studied the boy's profile and knew that when he got home he was seriously going to have words with John and find out exactly what was going on that man's head.

John had always been so overprotective of his youngest that it appeared stifling at times and this just letting him go without any protection seemed more than a little odd to say the least. All he could sense was that John was hiding something from him and he refused to be kept in the dark any longer.

Fighting down his concerns he gently reached out and patted Sam's shoulder, "Hey Samuel you got time for this old man before I catch the flight home."

Slowly Sam opened his eyes and nodded his agreement. Jim drew up a chair and felt an invisible barrier go up between them and wondered yet again what the boy had gone through to leave such scars so visible behind too young eyes.

"Sam I wish that I could stay longer but I have my commitments as you know. My flight leaves at eight and I have to check in shortly. Your wonderful Mrs Adams has offered to drive me to the airport."

Sam smiled tiredly, "You know Pastor you coming like this is more than I ever expected, especially how it is with dad and me. You know he's gonna be as pissed as hell that you did."

"Don't you worry about your father and I, we've weathered worst storms," admitted Jim with a wry shrug. "I wish that I could do more before I go."

Sam paused afraid that he might offend the man he respected if he spoke his mind but still took the chance, "It seems like half the world has been offering help these last few days and no offence meant but its not as if I can't look after things my end from now on."

Jim studied him for a moment and wished that John could see his son with less judgemental eyes. "I understand my boy, I really do but you know that there will always be a place for you in my house. Always."

As he eyed the teenager whom he had watched grow from baby to the young man he was rewarded with a weak smile and a familiar flash of dimples. "I appreciate that Pastor Jim."

"Well then now that we've come to an understanding I best be going." Answered Jim awkwardly pushing an envelope over at Sam adding, "Take this. Keep it for emergencies."

Sam's brow puckered looking suspiciously down at the envelope guessing what was inside, "No sir I really can't accept this. Aaron's hooked me up a job a few nights a week at the local rag. I've got all I need."

Sam purposely put the envelope back in his hand and Jim sighed resignedly knowing he had been pushing his luck in trying to get the boy to accept this additional help. That freaky independent streak the boy had always carried with him had truly asserted itself but he knew it was something he was going to need from now on away from the protection of his family.

Softer eyes with a genuine smile behind them looked back at him and Jim's heart broke a fresh for the Winchester family as Sam whispered back, "I promise you I will be okay and I'll keep in touch sir."

Etta had come up behind them her eyes bright with a mixture of reluctance to leave the boy she had grown so fond off but also a measure of hope that things were finally going right for him. Too her eyes he looked far healthier in the last four days in Palo Alto than he had done in weeks.

It all changed with the news that his brother was coming. It was like an invisible half tonne weight had been lifted off Sam's shoulders and she was left marvelling at the effect it had on him.

Not wanting to upset his brother at his appearance he had started to eat crazy, determined to add a few pounds before his turned up and in another race against time had taken to sitting in the sun from sunrise to sunset to get some much needed colour. It had been a marathon of boxes of donuts, double cheese pizzas and Californian sunshine to work the small miracle he needed to make himself look healthy again but he did it.

In the process of this transformation she really started to realise that when the boy decided to do something he put all his energies into it. One hundred percent and nothing less and she loved him even more for his tenacity.

Now as she watched the Pastor get to his feet and Sam follow she knew it was the saying goodbye that was going to be the hardest part for them all. Still at least now she could feel confident that Sam was going to be okay.

As she looped her arms between them they walked in a simple silence out of the yard and down to where she had parked up the Winnebago. Standing by his car was Caleb having a last minute conversation with Aaron before readying to make his own departure.

Cupping Sam's face with her hands Etta shook her head looking longingly up at the tall boy her heart full of reluctance to leave him after all they had been through. "You promise me to take care of yourself. Promise me."

Sam nodded and she kissed him on both cheeks before pulling away. Sam dipped his head and smiled softly, "You drive carefully Etta and stay clear of any dodgy diners and idiot rednecks."

Etta grinned back up at him throwing him a small wink, "I promise. Anyway Sam I expect to see you and that handsome professor of yours for Thanksgiving. No excuses."

Sam laughed at seeing the heat rise on Aaron's cheeks. The two had struck up an instant friendship and it had felt good to see them both enjoying each other's company so easily.

Etta felt herself swung round as Aaron lifted her briefly of the ground in a tight hug of appreciation. As she felt her feet touch the ground again she leant out of his embrace to a wag a finger up at him in warning, "No excuses for you also Professor Jennings - you better take care of my boy."

Aaron nodded his understanding that she was officially handing his care over to him now he took her hand and graciously kissed it, "I look forward to seeing you again Mrs Adams. Thanksgiving it is."

Jim stepped in front of Sam and in a firm grasp took his hand eyes bright at having to leave so soon. "Just like Mrs Adams said you best take care of yourself. I've left some stuff with Aaron to make sure you stay safe. Use them lad. Don't you dare get careless now as that would be most unacceptable."

Sam raised an eyebrow knowing at what his words hinted at but not wanting to alarm Etta he simply grinned back. "Sure thing Pastor Jim. Thanks again for coming and a safe flight home."

Watching them disappear as the Winnebago turned the corner at the end of the road Sam let out a long sigh and suddenly aware of another two sets of eyes on him he swung back to throw a half-hearted grin at Caleb. "So you off too old man?"

"I can stay another day or two kiddo if you want," murmured Caleb wondering if he was doing right leaving before Dean turned up.

"No, no, no way Cal. You've done more than enough." Sam paused chewing on the insides of his cheeks before looking up through his heavy bangs his heart sinking at the loss of another friend tonight, "Sorry if I was a real brat before. I just…."

Caleb stepped forwards and took him in a fierce hug, "Hey dude you'll always be a pesky little brat to me. So no changes there or you won't be the evil son of a gun who skunked my car way back when."

For his part Sam giggled guiltily at being finally flushed out as the culprit and Caleb felt happy to take a step back sure that their friendship was back on an even keel. "Don't you let all those geeky eggheads around you change who you are and keep that scrawny ass of yours safe. From everything."

"Yeah I know the routine, salt and more salt. Love to see what my new roommate's take is gonna be on that little quirk of mine!"

"If he gives you any grief I'll bash his brains out for you kiddo. Free of charge!" answered Caleb with a knowing smirk on his face. "So give me a ring and let me know how it went with that brother of yours."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Ronnie screamed down the phone so loudly that Sam had to pull it away from his ear or risk going deaf. "Sam" she screamed again her voice breathless with excitement. "Mommy its Sam! Where have you been Sam? I've been waiting for you to call me. Waited and waited and waited."

Feeling more than a little guilty at the length between phone calls Sam quickly apologised, "Sorry Ronnie. I got really busy but I've been thinking about you, especially about you and that pink tutu."

"I got it Sam. Mom bought it last week and new slippers too. I look wonderful just like a fairy princess."

Sam chuckled at trying to envision the short stocky girl in stretched pink Lycra but the flurry of footsteps and muffled voices caught his attention and then Connie's warm voice came down the line. "Sam is that you? Are you okay honey? I was worried when you didn't ring."

"Sorry Mrs Huffman, but really I'm fine, just fine. I'm in Palo Alto as we speak." Sam skirted successfully around his health. What she didn't know couldn't upset her he reasoned and now that he was well on the road to recovery that's how he intended to keep it.

"That's wonderful Sam. Is Stanford all that you expected?" Connie blinked back a hot tear of relief as Ronnie pulled at her skirt anxious to speak to Sam again. She put up a shushing finger and the little girl scowled unhappily up at her but held her tongue.

"Yeah. It's a really great campus. A.J. is here too and my brother's coming to see me. It's really all good…."

Connie could here the happiness in his voice and her relief intensified for him. "Your brother? I'm so happy for you Sam. I knew it would work itself out given time."

"Yeah I hope so. Dean and me, well you know it's been hard me taking off like I did, I just hope he really has forgiven me."

"Forgive you Sam? For going to college?" Connie always thought it strange that something so normal could cause so much grief for the boy.

Needing to explain Sam hurried out, "No not for that. For leaving him like I did. For not being the brother he needed…"

"Oh Sam I think you've always been that for him. I'm sure that's why he's coming to see you."

"I really hope so. I don't think I could bear him hating me anymore," confessed Sam.

Connie found herself praying that things really did go well for the boy. "I'm sure he doesn't honey."

Ronnie could take it any longer and whined loudly tugging harder on her mother's skirt. "I want to speak to Sam. Come on mom I wanna speak to him. Its not fair, he's _my _friend mommy…"

Sam laughed at the petulance in her voice and Connie gave in and Ronnie screamed down the phone again. "Guess what I got Sammy?"

"What?" laughed Sam happy to be able to reconnect with the little girl without any of the burdens of before.

"I got my own pig!" blurted out Ronnie in delight down the line.

Sam's face split into a wide grin wondering at just how much nagging the little girl must have done to wear down her parents to get her pig. "Way to go Ronnie that's just awesome. What did you call it?"

"Precious. He's so cute Sam all small and pink and his tail is all curly. Mom won't let him sleep in my bed though. She's just likes being mean…"

Sam laughed again and could hear Connie smothering a snort of disbelief her end. "I think that's a great name for a pig. But your mom's right Precious really shouldn't sleep in your bed. You might wake up with piglet poop all over you."

"Yuck Sammy," Ronnie giggled in return before she turned to her mom and with a stern face replayed the information back. "Sam said I mustn't let Precious sleep with me because he might crap in my bed."

Connie nodded, masking her need to laugh at the serious look on her little girl's face with a mock coughing fit. "Sam is a very wise boy Ronnie."

"That's why he's my special friend," agreed Ronnie with a fervent nod of her head glad that her mother could understand what Sam really meant to her.

Sam shook his head in wonder at her capacity to trust him so implicitly. The little girl and her family had truly been a port in a storm and he would be forever grateful to them. Sitting down in a large comfy chair he drew his knees up slowly and knew that he was in for a long, long chat.

In fact it was going to be long evening of catch up phone calls that he needed to make. From Melanie to Kelly and his other friends he had left behind now was the time to try and make things right again before Dean showed up. He didn't know how long his brother might stay and didn't want anything or anybody to take time away from that. Not anyone.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Aaron had called the day after he left Palo Alto voicing his concern that the oldest Winchester boy had failed to turn up. Now for the third time that day Caleb caught Dean's voicemail and knew that he was being deliberately ignored. In the end he had rang John directly to be told gruffly they were busy finishing up a job in Oakland and it was up to Dean whether or not he found time to come to Stanford.

It was the 'whether or not' that flagged a warning in the pit of Caleb's stomach. Dean was purposely ignoring Sam and everyone associated with him, but why? When last he had spoken with him he seemed hell bent in getting to his little brother side. What had changed since then?

Angry now he wished he had kept his mouth shut and not mentioned to Sam that his brother was on his way to see him. Now he could only imagine what the waiting was doing to the kid.

He could beat the crap out of Dean for doing this to his brother. It was downright cruel.

As he listened to the message on Dean's phone he waited for the familiar beep and then let rip. "Listen you fucking asshole I don't know what mind-games your playing here but you best ring me or next time we meet up you'll be flat on your back seeing stars. Ring me or so help me I'm turning this car round and I'm gonna hunt your stupid ass down and really let you know how I feel you dumb ass idiot."

It felt good to vent but it didn't solve his problem on what to tell Sam about the reasons behind Dean's deliberate absence. Fingering his car keys Caleb got to his feet the anger settling hard inside. "Screw this."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Book held tight under his nose Sam sat by the window letting the late afternoon sunshine wash over him, pretending that the words in front of him held meaning and absorbing absolutely nothing.

All he could think of was why had Dean decided to cut him dead again? Deep down he knew he shouldn't be too surprised by this turn around. After all it had never been a Winchester trait to forgive or forget so why had he dared to believe otherwise. Still it didn't stop the hurt from eating away at him day after day.

A familiar voice bought out of his dark reverie as his newly acquired roommate popped his head round the door and grinned wildly. "Winchester you still playing the geek?"

Pete pointedly ignored the moody look shot by Sam as he came into room. He was enough thick skinned after growing up with three brothers and two sisters to not be deterred by the odd scowl flung his way. "Hey get you skinny lanky ass up. Time to head out of campus as I've heard of the most awesome burger place."

Sam shook his head the need for food being on lowest rung of the ladder of his priorities. In a couple of hours he had to go to work and all he wanted now was a few quite moments trying to catch up on his reading of which he was failing miserably.

Pete though was anything but deterred and persisted. "Come on dude. I know your homesick and everything but you need to adjust and drop the big dark brooding act."

He wasn't expecting the chuckle escape from Sam, a chuckle that soon turned into a tight unnatural laugh. "Homesick? What makes you think that?"

"Well the way you've been mooning around all miserable as sin might have been a clue! You should be making the most of your freedom Winchester, I know I am."

Sam sighed any forced humour dying on his lips. "I've got no home to go back to. Sort of nixes that notion of homesickness in its tracks doesn't it?"

"Sorry, I just assumed." Pete sat down slowly on the opposite chair. "You really got no family then Winchester?"

"Thought I had a brother for a while…" answered Sam cryptically putting down his book and stood up in a slow deliberate stretch. He eyed Pete and saw the enquiry in his eyes and decided to offset any further questions, "So best burgers in town you say?"

Pete wanted to ask more and knew he was being very expertly redirected. Still seeing that this had been the longest conversation he had with his roommate since his introduction he wasn't going to risk pushing any harder.

And he really did want to try get to that burger bar as he had lined up a couple of hot looking girls to meet there and had promised the tall redhead that he'd be dragging 'Mr Sex-on-legs' as she had defined his room-mate, along.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean listened again to the anger vibrate out of the phone as Caleb's last message played out once more and with a sneer of disgust he turned the phone off again. Nodding over to the bartender he growled out, "Another beer and a whiskey."

With the job in Oakland now finished tomorrow he knew they'd be on their way again, away from California and away from his little brother and he could hardly wait.

Now all he wanted to do was drown out the voices and images in his head, of his brother's mocking laughter, of Caleb's threats and his dad silent questioning stares. He knocked back another shot of whiskey with a sour grimace then nodded for a refill. Tonight he intended to get totally wasted.

When the unexpected hard grip on his shoulder jostled his grip on his glass he cursed out loud, the liquor spilling over his fingers. Thinking it was his dad trying to rein him in he growled out. "Leave it out old man I don't need you telling me what to do right now."

"Someone has to Winchester."

Jerking out of his grip Dean spun round clearly astonished that the man had made good his threat and tracked him down and dammit to hell Caleb looked well and truly pissed, his eyes dark with anger and mouth a tight slash as if words furious and hot were readying to spill out.

"You readying to knock me on my ass old man cos I sure as hell would like you see you try," spat out Dean getting to his feet to match Caleb's anger shoving him back a step with the flat of his hand against his shoulder.

The bartender feeling the tension radiating off the two men picked up his baseball club from underneath the bar brandishing it in clear warning as he snarled, "Take this outside fellas… now."

Nostrils flaring Dean muttered a curse under his breath, threw down some dollar bills to cover his tab before snatching up his jacket and stormed out with Caleb close on his heals.

As soon as they exited the bar Caleb grabbed at Dean and shoved him hard against the stone wall pressing his forearm over his throat using his extra weight to keep him momentarily pinned. "You asshole I should break every bone in your worthless hide for making me come all the way back like this."

Pushing the heavier man off him with a hard shove of his own Dean stood up taller and grinned darkly as he shrugged on his jacket flexing his finger, knuckles cracking, "You could try but you're not going to look pretty by the end of it."

Caleb could see he was spoiling for a fight and resisted his own desire to punch some sense into him. He hadn't chased all the way back to California to beat Dean senseless before finding out about the reasons for his change of heart. That he reasoned could come later when he got his answers. "You are one stupid jerk lying to me like that. What happened you get a big streak of yellow up your back and were too scared to face your little brother?"

"Me lie to you?" gasped out Dean in disbelief, "What about all those damn lies that you spun to get me to come to California? I saw you know. I saw it all."

"Saw what? What the hell did you see?" demanded Caleb blew out an exasperated breath as Dean was really making no sense at all.

Stabbing an accusatory finger at him Dean snarled up close to his face, "You lot all cosying up with that bastard Jennings letting him play daddy to that turncoat brother of mine. Get some fun out of that did you twisting the knife in my guts like that?"

"What the hell are you talking about? Twist the knife? You crazy drunk or what?" demanded Caleb.

Dean staggered a little and laughed again as the world tilted slightly the effects off the alcohol and cold night air hitting him suddenly. "Not drunk enough believe me. You said Sammy had been at deaths door but he seemed healthy enough to me. Another lie and another guilt trip to put me on. Right?"

Grinding his teeth Caleb asked in a low voice, "Just when did you get to see all this?"

"Oh you know that little soiree in the back yard." spat out Dean contemptuously, "Sammy standing around like the cat that got the canary. Didn't look like to me that he was going to be doing lonely anytime with the professor and that Etta bitch so wrapped up in him."

Stunned Caleb's mouth dropped open as understanding took hold, "You're really telling me you got as far as the backyard and then turned tail all because Sam looked good, looked happy?"

"Yeah well if I had stayed I might have killed something. You fucking played me…"

Caleb's eyes went dark with anger and he was close to throwing his first punch. "You saying that I lied to you? You better watch your mouth Winchester because you're crossing a line here man."

Dean frowned as his clouded thoughts trying to disseminate the truth from all the lies he had been fed over the months and his voice betrayed his confusion and hurt, "Why the hell did you make me come when he didn't need me Caleb? I could see it with my own eyes. He has Jennings and that woman playing happy families and Sammy seemed more than happy with the new arrangements."

"Jesus man you couldn't be further from the truth. Etta returned to San Diego that same day and the professor is at Berkley. Your brother is really doing it all on his own now."

"What golden boy has to wipe his own ass all by his lonesome now?" sniggered Dean humourlessly trying to straighten up and gain some control before sniping back, "Might do him some good and maybe he'll grow a freaking backbone."

"Your brother grew that when he stood up to your dad time and time again." Caleb spat out before taking a step back from Dean hardly believing his ears, "Jesus I wish I'd never told the kid that you were coming. If any one was told a lie it was Sam. I promised him goddam it…'"

"So what. The kid doesn't need me, never needed me not all the time I was worried about him," growled Dean still struggling not to drown in the surge of feelings Caleb was dragging out of him.

Caleb twisted back to look at him and shook his head in despair, "Oh god I never realised just how fucking fragile your ego is. Man you have some issues going on in your stupid head that you need to work through."

Dean leant in and barked back harshly, "Issues that you put there by playing me like that. Was the stabbing another fat lie to make me feel like the worse big brother ever? Make feel sorry for helpless little Sammy all over again?"

It was too much for Caleb and his fist swung hard and true knocking Dean as promised flat on his back. Not waiting for him to get up he stormed over to the trunk of his car, pulled out a package and threw it by Dean's head on the ground. "You ever call me a liar again Winchester you'll not be getting back up again. Ever."

Moving his jaw from side to side Dean pulled himself onto his elbows and spat out a mouthful of blood. Warily he eyed the package on the ground and turned back up to Caleb with a dirty smirk on his face, "What's this you trying to buy me off with a gift to ease your conscience."

"That you little dumbass is what I took from the Sheriff's evidence locker in New Mexico. It was once a lovely shade of pale pink, part of a matching towel set in Etta's Winnebago."

Frowning his distrust Dean snaked out a hand to retrieve the plastic evidence bag and with a suspicious eye looked it over. The illuminated bar sign threw off enough light for him to clearly read the name on the tag of Sam Huffman and his face went ash white.

The towel inside the bag had set hard as the blood that had saturated it a dark maroon dried and he looked desperately back up at Caleb as the truth hit hard and fast, "Sammy…"

"Some lie eh sport?" hurled back Caleb. "So tell me again exactly what you saw when you came to Palo Alto that left you so fucking blind?"

Dean lurched to his feet desperate to stop his stomach from exploding up his throat and he staggered away from Caleb's accusing stare to sit stunned on the hood of the impala his head spinning from the effects of the alcohol, the punch and the bag in his hands.

Brokenly he hugged the bag to his chest, as if he could absorb the blood back in to him and take the hurt away that his little brother had gone through. A soft moan squeezed his throat and the tears fell, "I thought…. He looked so damn good Caleb…..I thought it couldn't have been true. I didn't want to believe it."

Bending down to his level Caleb looked him square in the eye, somewhat relieved by the breakdown of his hard-man act. "Your brother worked damn hard to put on a few pounds and get some color back before you turned up. You wanna know why?"

"How the hell should I know…so he could be pretty for all the geeky girls on campus," whispered Dean as he wiped the tears roughly off his cheeks.

"No dude the stupid kid was frightened if you saw him looking so freaking fragile that you'd think him weak. A failure. Damn stupid Winchester pride working against him again didn't it?"

"Frightened of me?" Dean shook his head in disbelief and curled his head back on to his chest crushing the evidence bag once again to him dribbling blood from his split lip over the top of the plastic.

"Come on dude this is still fixable," offered up Caleb daring to drag Dean back to his feet. Sensing just how broken he was he pulled him into a tight hug and felt the warmth of tears soak onto his shoulder. In all his years with the older Winchesters he knew that the only thing that could bring them to their knees was Sammy and now he had to give back Dean some way to stand tall again.

Dean after a few seconds of being held pulled free confessed, "It was supposed to be my job to protect him Cal but how was I supposed to do that when I didn't even know where he was? He could have been killed and he didn't tell me. Didn't want me to know."

"He's a Winchester through and through Dean. He's got his share of stupid pride too."

"So what's the point of being a big brother if I can't stop him from doing stupid things when I'm not there to watch his back?

"To be there when he does need you Dean. Don't see how you could believe otherwise," answered Caleb softly and he could have sworn he heard a strangled sob escape from his old friend as he let go of more of his pain.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

As the twilight turned into the dark of night the air was cooler now and it allowed him to sit without disturbance. He fingered the book in his hand, the limited edition of The Illiad, the last gift his brother had given him, and sighed ruefully. The weight of the small book in his hand was heavy, crushing, a reminder that as much as his dad hated him so did his brother and he could find no joy in reading it anymore.

Rubbing a hand wearily over his face he knew he had to shake of the dark funk that kept him rooted to the bench and get back to the dorm. It was getting too late to be sitting outside in the dark. As he thought about getting up his sensed tickled in alert when a shadow caught the corner of his eye, his hand snuck down into rucksack automatically and fingers met cold steel.

"Thought I raised you better little brother than to be sitting here waiting to be chow time for all the big dark and nasty things out there that crawl out at night."

Sam froze hardly daring to believe his ears, as his brother slid down to sit on the bench beside him. His chest tightened as a vice like pain squeezed all air out of lungs. Loose fingers let go of the knife in the rucksack and he turned this head to look at his brother, eyes wide in disbelief. "Dean?"

Sam's eyes widened further in alarm at seeing the split lip and black eye he sported and had to stop himself in a desperate rush to ask what had happened knowing that he had given up that right the moment he had left him back in Michigan.

Dean grinned weakly back at him, noting with flicker of concern that in the time since he'd seen him last the kid had somehow lost weight. "You trying for the Skeletor look or perhaps a He-man role with all that dorky hair?"

Dean frowned as Sam's head ducked low and the silence hung heavy between them. Nudging him with his shoulder Dean asked, "So you doing okay little brother? Is this place geeky enough for you?"

Mutely Sam nodded still not lifting up his head high enough to meet his stare, his gift of language deserting him as he felt overwhelmed by his brother's presence. All his senses were being stretched with the familiar smells that made up his brother, the musty leather, the hair gel and aftershave. All screaming Dean at him.

As it taunted him filtering through the cool night air he swallowed back the lump rising in his throat threatening to bring tears with it. Winchesters didn't do crying he told himself in a soft mantra as he drank in the familiar scent. After New Mexico he had promised himself that he wouldn't allow such weakness to take hold of him again and he dug his fingers into the palms of his hands to keep them at bay.

Surprised by his brother's verbal shutdown Dean strove to get a response wondering if his brother was still angry with him and he mockingly commented, "So you really never did listen to me about watching your back did you kiddo?"

Sam jerked his head up at the reminder his face bearing a haunted look before it disappeared and all emotions stilled, "Think I've learnt my lesson now…"

"I hope so Sammy," sighed Dean not sure of what to say next. "You gotta watch your own back from now on. You know that, right?"

Sam shrugged and Dean flinched. This was not the imagined response he had expected from his normally demonstrative brother. The kid really had shutdown just like Caleb had warned. Chewing his bottom lip he knew that he should have confronted his fears that first day in Palo Alto and then the divide between them wouldn't seem so big now.

Dean finally gave it another shot to reach his brother, "Look I hope this whole college thing works out for you, really I do. I may not like the way you went about all of this but it's your choice in the end to make. Why you couldn't tell me though really fucking hurt."

Sam shifted besides him and let out a confessional sigh, "I wanted to tell you so badly but I didn't think you'd want to know. Dad got you so wrapped up in hunting since you left school that I just couldn't speak to you anymore."

"Don't Sam. This is about you and me. I didn't come here to talk about him, so don't your dare bring dad into this."

Sam lifted his head and met his gaze and Dean flinched at the rawness there, "You don't really believe that Dean. I gave up pretending it was ever going to get better between me and dad and so did he a long time ago. You just didn't want to see it and I'm truly sorry you got caught in the middle of it all in the end"

"Sorry for me? Little rich don't you think when you knew that what you were doing was going to be a kick to the guts," growled out Dean and instantly regretting the angry tone as Sam flinched away slightly from him. "Look all I'm saying is that all those secrets you kept from me was hard to find out after you left. It was like seeing you through different eyes and the brother that I thought I knew no longer existed."

Sam frowned and kept his gaze locked on some distant spot, swallowing back a retort and the silence dragged on again before he finally answered his voice surprisingly level, "May be your right, I think _he_ finally disappeared somewhere between Michigan and New Mexico…"

Dean studied him for a long second before turning away and wiped a hand tiredly over his face feeling the week long stubble rub against the palm of his hand in a tickle. "Sam, I know things changed the moment you walked out that door but you should have called me when things got out of hand. I'm still your big brother dude."

Sam eyes were unnaturally bright at the reminder of his status and small smile tugged on his lips, "Big brother wanting to come to the rescue of his screw up little brother like old times…"

Dean sucked in a tired breath and could hear his father's words behind Sam's voice. This was too hard to be doing he realised as he was ill prepared to deal with the way his brother was so restrained. His little brother was purposely keeping the barricades up and he just wasn't equipped to reach out and take some of the damage away like Caleb had done with him.

It was a relief when his phone rung and throwing his brother a quick look noticed how he pointedly refused to turn to the sound. He took the call and when it finished he stood up slowly, wiping his hands down his jeans to get the slick of sweat off them. "I gotta be going. A job's come up…"

Sam nodded his understanding not daring to ask more and jumped up to his feet. His book that had been in his lap thudded to the floor and instinctively Dean reached down and picked it up. His eyes sparkled dangerously as he handed it back without a word to Sam though his heart beat a faster pattern in recognition.

Face to face the two brothers studied each other and slowly Dean asked, "Anything you want me to say to dad?"

When Sam shrugged his shoulders indifferently he had his answer and he run a hand through his hair, knowing that he was about to run away with too little sorted out. Nodding at his brother he took a step back wishing that he could grab him in a hug and let him know just what he meant to him, "I'll see you around then kiddo."

"Sure big brother, see you around," whispered Sam accepting the lie for what it was struggling now to keep the emotional dams sealed. His brother was making it official, that they were letting go off each other. Dean was going back to the world of hunting with their dad and he was staying here. Finally he knew that for both of them there was no going back.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam had watched his brother walk off and listened hard until he heard the distant thrum of an engine start up and his brother sped away. Slowly he walked back to the dorm struggling to keep the façade up to mask the pain. When he reached his room he was thankful it was empty and he slumped down on the foot of his bed, already regretting the way he had let his brother just walk off like that.

A ringing noise made him jump in surprise and with a frown he wondered if Pete had left his phone behind. As he cocked an ear he realised the sound was coming from beneath his bed and tentatively he reached under till his hand connected with a cardboard box. Surprised he pulled it out and his mouth fell open to see his childish seven year old scrawl of his name on the lid. Hurriedly he opened the box and saw a phone lit up ringing loudly begging him to answer. Eyes glistening he took the phone in a shaky hand and pressed the receive button. "Hey Dean is that you?"

"Took you long enough to answer Bitch," growled Dean down the line disguising his relief that his brother had answered fearing for awhile that Sam would cut him off.

"You jerk," snapped back Sam with a happy laugh at the back of his throat wiping hurriedly away the tears that streamed down his face.

Dean chuckled in relief at Sam's natural response, "So just thought I'd ring to remind you that you had better check those damn salt lines again. They looked real sloppy to me."

"Thanks Dean," whispered Sam eyes brimming as he glanced down at his little box of treasures he had collected since his earliest memories. _Thanks for being my awesome big brother. _

"Yeah well, you best take care of this phone better than the last one and stay away from water sprites and the likes. And while I'm at it don't let any skanky girls get their claws into you, stay away from the nut-jobs and for godsake remember under all the geektude you've wrapped yourself in that you're still a Winchester."

"Yeah I will. Thanks for everything big brother," choked out Sam fingering his Indian arrowhead with delight.

"Don't thank me little brother. Thank MasterCard and a certain Mr Bernard Gibbons."

"Thanks Bernie…" sighed Sam softly in appreciation down the line letting the tears roll down unashamedly now.

"You go check those salt lines," demanded Dean choking back his own tears before he hung up. It was a start he hoped, a start to keep Sammy in some part in his life.

**The End**


End file.
